The Colour of My Bruises Are?
by blinks
Summary: Kip's rather sudden reappearance in South Park starts a wave of unsettling events for Kenny and Kyle. Kyle tries not to let his superstitions get to him, but the foreboding feeling Kip permeates isn't as bizarre, but perhaps more uncanny and threatening then firstly assumed. K2. One sided! Kip x Kyle. Non-con themes.
1. Nostalgic Orange

Title – The Colour of My Bruises Are?

Summary – Kip's rather sudden reappearance in South Park starts a wave of unsettling events for Kenny and Kyle. Kyle tries not to let his superstitions get to him, but the foreboding aura Kip permeates isn't as bizarre, but perhaps more uncanny and threatening then firstly assumed. K2. One sided! Kip x Kyle.

This is a story that I have been thinking and writing about for a while now, I love stories that are a bit suspenseful and violent, and all the other long stories that I try to start all follow a similar theme. So yes, there will be **rape, violence** **and maybe some gory moments** in later scenes. So please do not read this if it will make you uncomfortable. **If you want to read this but not the** _ **bad**_ **parts, I leave warnings at the beginning of each chapter, so if you don't want to read the** _ **bad**_ **bit but want to know what happened within the chapter PM me and I will give you a gist.**

There is probably going to be sex scenes in every chapter, which is not a promise or commitment but probably something that is gonna happen.

Please, R&R and tell me what you think. I want to add in some filler chapters so if you have anything you'd want to read, tell me and I'll try and add them all in.

(btw the Spanish in this was used with a translator, if u speak Spanish and what ive put is fuckin wrong, tell me pls!)

I give out spoilers £20 apiece.

Enjoy x

.

 **Chapter One – Nostalgic Orange.**

 _The echo of sirens blur into the high whine of a blistering white noise that penetrates and deafens Kyle's hearing, leaving him heedless to the yowls of those around him. A blistering, unbearable pain blossoms with the noise that lives him spinning, jarring._

 _He feels the bullet nestled within him, snuggled in a cocoon of his flesh. It hums and pulses, sizzling as it looses momentum. He's not sure if it's the pain or adrenaline that catches him first. But once his mind has finally caught up to his pain and horror; he screeches. His body curls and spasms. The unbelievable urge to vomit and cry are excruciating and Kyle wonders for a passing moment which one he'll excrete first._

 _Kenny gapes at him with his wide, wounded puppy eyes, terrified and astonished, his hands quivering. He's crying too. Kyle quakes; feeble and restrained. His hands tremble too; ensnared firmly behind him, frantic and desperate to grasp at the wound and envelop his fingers over it. He wails, his body shivering at the sudden temperature drop._

 _Around him resonates a similar wail, yet softer and more merciless. It's mixed with a sadistic laughter which hits Kyle deeper than the bullet._

 _Kyle begins to loose concept and meanings. Everything's beginning to blur and nothing is making sense. What colour are his eyes? When's his brother's birthday? What's Kenny's middle name? The white noise intensifies with the merciless hummer. A frenzy of movement occurs around him, everything blurs into a stable white noise. He feels himself falling, sinking, everything begins to fade and all Kyle wants to do is sleep._

 _Rest._

.

The snow falls in thick, luscious clumps that catch and accumulate in the fringe of Kyle's exposed hair and on the fabric of his clothes. The snow dances as it descends, fluttering in a slight diagonal fashion due to the gentle gush of thin mountain wind, which leaves Kyle feeling breathless. He struggles to bring a gloved hand up to his scarf under the heavy layering of clothing and brush off the opposing snowflakes which have gathered there. He huffs as he does so, his feet dragging as he enters the library. He spends a moment gently scrapping the snow from himself and stomping the clumps of compressed snow from his feet. He hums slightly to himself as he does so, sniffing against his cold, runny nose; enjoying the sudden flux of warmth from the building.

Once inside, he hangs his coat and scarf on one of the provided coat hangers neighbouring the entrance. His fingers trail along the spines of books as he circles the fiction area, eyeing the tattered books with a deep interest. He delicately prizes them from their hold within the bookshelf to read the blurb, turning them several times in his hands, inspecting them. He does this with many he's intrigued by, running his fingers along the front cover, sometimes opening the book and reading the first paragraph. He catches himself eyeing a few war time books and shakes his head to himself, he can barely think about WW2 after finding out about his Father's Grandmother being in the Holocaust, let alone read a story about it.

To his side, a few paces stands another man that looks roughly Kyle's age. He too is inspecting the vast collection of books the library offers, holding a book with gangly fingers, flicking through the first few pages. Kyle ponders who he is, there's something about his brunet, shoulder length hair that holds an unflattering, frizzy curl and teeth that catch Kyle like a wave of nameless and indefinite nostalgia.

There's something about him that keeps Kyle stomach in knots; there is a cold foreboding feeling about this that fills his veins with a poisonous liquid that saps the content out of Kyle and replaces it with unrest. And, although Kyle can't place where it's coming from, his anxieties flare and his skin prickles when he notices the other glancing at him from the corner of his eye. South Park as small as it is, everyone knows each other, or at least knows _of_ each other and Kyle cannot place this figure. He tries to think that this is the reason for his anxiousness but he can't help but wonder if it's something more.

He replaces the book he's holding with a quiet sigh, he feels like he is working himself up over something insignificant, yet he can't help but steal a glance at the stranger next to him only to confirm that he is starring at Kyle again past his long wavy locks.

"Do I know you?" Kyle asks suddenly, hoping that he's unrest will settle and calm once he knows who the stranger is. His words come of sounding more apathetic and ruder than he had anticipated. He watches the other flinch at the violation of words and look at Kyle with unease. He has a face that states 'Who? Me?' as he looks at Kyle with wide brown eyes.

"Uh," He starts, nodding slowly as if he's turning the words over in his head, inspecting them for a deeper meaning. "Y-yeah, I'm Kip." He says his own name like he's not certain of it and although the name rings a bell, Kyle still can't place his relation with this boy, "Drordy." He adds. "Y-you were my first friend."

Everything connects and Kyle realises that this is the third grader who didn't have any friends on Facebook and Kyle took pity and added him. "I thought so," Kyle says although he didn't. He's never met Kip in person – he only ever skimmed through his Facebook photos once – yet he is overwhelmed by Kip's height and size. He is slightly overweight and pudgy, and he seems to grow taller the more you looked to him. He has round red cheeks that droop at the sides of his chin, pulling his mouth downwards and making him look dopey and emotionless.

Kip rubs the back of his neck and smiles nervously, "Yeah, I left South Park for a while – I just came back the other month actually." He mentions, as if this new source of information will help Kyle build his memory on the boy (not that there's a lot to remember).

"Ah, OK." Kyle replies, turning back to the bookshelf and inspecting _'The_ _Lord of The Rings'_ trilogy, he picks up _'The fellowship of The Ring'_ , he hasn't read the book in years and if he reads them quickly enough, he could convince Kenny to rewatch the films with him before Kyle loses interest. He remembers Butters acting crazy over it and humping Kyle in a frenzy. He resolves to gather the remaining two books and shuffle to the checkout, feeling giddy over the paper bags the employee gives him.

When he returns to grab his coat, he notices Kip scrutinising him again, this time no longer holding a book. Kyle wonders if it's Kip's haziness and ambiguity or his general demeanour that puts Kyle on edge. He tries to ignore the bubbling unease that simmers within him again and strut confidently to his coat and scarf. He shrugs it on, ignoring the dampness of his scarf as he adjusts it around his neck.

Outside the snow is still as persistent, the fluffy, cloud like substance jitters as it falls, the wind blows it towards Kyle and it stings when the snow touches him. Kyle pulls at the ear flaps of his hat, ensuring that it covers much of his ears and neck as possible, before doing the same with the scarf.

"Kyle," A voice calls from behind him, Kyle turns to find Kip there, heaving and looking flushed. He doesn't beckon Kyle towards him, instead running further out in the heavy snow to try and catch up with the smaller, he's panting when he reaches him and Kyle can see through his thick hair that he's ears are bright red. _He looks cold._

"Uh, yeah?" Kyle replies, confused and curious.

"I-" he gives himself a moment to breath out, "I haven't been here so long, I don't know what's happened since I've left, and-" He breathes in then out again, hurriedly. "And, I was hoping you and I could meet up and you could – you know – could fill me in. _Um_. On everything that's happened."

Although Kyle feels weary of the younger, he knows that Kip couldn't do him any harm, the boy looks like he can barely run a mile let alone finish a fight. "Sure." He says, wondering if this will affect him time with Kenny. "Do you know any places that we could meet up?" He tries, _maybe,_ he thinks, _maybe he won't know anywhere._

"Casa Bonita."

"The Disney Land of Mexican restaurants?"

"What?"

"No, Casa Bonita it is." Kyle dismisses, annoyed that it had to be somewhere so expensive.

"Uh, tonight?" He enquires, his voice hopeful and expectant.

"At eight." Kyle comfims, tonight means that he'll have to cut Kenny short, but at least he'll get this _date_ thing out of the way before he completely discharges it in his mind. "Bye," Kyle waves, feeling intoxicated by Kip's overbearing presence. "See you later." He adds before completely turning away from Kip and into the mouth of the storm.

.

" _Ah!-fuckin-"_

Kenny's mouth is attached to Kyle's skin, rarely unlatching from the smaller's flush flesh as he sucks and laps at it, enjoying Kyle's heated, hiccupping breath as it wobbly glides over Kenny's exposed neck and draws the hairs onto their ends. His fingers clench into Kenny's shoulder blade and his body quakes under Kenny's touch. Kenny enjoys the gentle tremor of the other, he likes that he was the one to cause this. Kyle lets out a quiet whimper, fingers tangling into the fabric of Kenny's coat; twisting and clasping at the fabric like a new born.

Kenny's hands retreat from Kyle's dick to run across his splayed thighs that that encase and trap Kenny to driver's seat. Kyle is hung over the steering wheel, his face burning and buried within Kenny's hair. He whimpers repeatedly and groans when Kenny's fingers depart and leave him breathlessly waiting for more, greedily and impatiently anticipating Kenny's next touch.

Kenny loves this look Kyle holds when he's close and enjoys drawing Kyle out just to prolong the euphoria edged over his body. His fingers trail over the skin of Kyle's thighs, freshly shaved from Kyle's fear of body hair and doused in a light blanket of sweat that has been brought on by the erotica of the pair.

" _Fucking,_ "Kyle whimpers again, breathless and relentless as Kenny probes him again with both his middle and ring finger, he slips in his index when Kyle's rough grunts begin to soften in to sighing moans that slip from his lips and ghost over Kenny's skin in a sullen dance. Kyle's trembling is a clear indicator of his current standing, and when he moves his face to Kenny's neck, the tickle of his hair and the wisps of his breath bring forth a second wave of pleasure within Kenny who is still reeling from his recent orgasm.

Kyle shudders and Kenny can feel him tighten around his fingers, he moans lightly and pushes his body to meet Kenny's mouth that's still nibbling at his skin. They pull away as a pleasured expression washes over Kyle's face. Eyes closed but mouth open. He doesn't moan whilst in orgasm, but before and after.

After Kyle settles, Kenny wipes his fingers along the others thighs again and smiles adoringly up at him. _God,_ he thinks, _I'm so unworthy._

.

They last twenty minutes like that, laying half naked and exposed together in Kenny's car, wondering if anyone can see them, and wondering if they care. Kyle's so close to sleep that it's excruciating and he wonders why his body won't just shut off. A nameless thought appears before him, wrapping him in a shadowy recollection of nostalgia. It brews and simmers within him thoughtlessly, brushing against his gut and beckoning it to remember. Kyle spends a mindless moment staring into the abyss of his daydream, trying to locate his promises and conversations. He brightens from his thoughts with a sudden recall to his situation.

"Shit!" He squeaks, jolting backwards away from Kenny into the steering wheel and setting it off. The commotion causes Kenny to wake with a panic, his jittering movement causes them to collide and Kyle tries to prevent his wheezing when Kenny accidently head butts him in the stomach. Leaning back causes the horn to sound again, so Kyle hovers awkwardly between the wheel and Kenny whilst he regains his breath.

They collectively groan after, before giggling together, Kenny's mismatched brown and blue eyes cause the other to falter. Only when replaced with Kip's dopey, brown eyes does Kyle rouse from his trance. He groans and struggles to situate himself in the passenger's seat again, his discarded jeans are collected from the car's foot well and Kenny's sits bemused watching Kyle struggle to redress himself.

"Plans?" Kenny asks, the scruffiness of his clothes are the only give away to their recent acts and Kyle tries to replicate Kenny's coolness with his own.

"Yeah, take me to Casa Bonita, will you?" He mumbles, briefly pausing zipping his jeans up to glance at Kenny. "Do I look like I just got fingered?" He asks cheekily, smirking at Kenny with a coy, playful smile.

"Yeah, wanna look like you've just been fucked instead?"

.

Casa Bonita is overwhelming: it's rich, spicy smell, fragmented with the drizzle of the waterfall, presented at the back of the supreme diner; the many attractions scattered around the perimeter of the large entrance, decorated in vivid, spectacular and gawking colours and a continual theme of the old west; red and yellow hues run throughout the walls, giving a warm, tinted atmosphere; all staff wear overbearing sombreros and talk with crisp, Mexican accents – they repeat orders in Spanish and nod excessively during them; tables are decorated with a umbrella and tablecloth, orange tassels drape off the ends of the square cloth, completing the complex patterns on it. It's a cluster of colours and design, which work and amalgamate with each other faultlessly.

Kyle's nerves begin to ascend during the car journey, he finds himself vocally expressing his anxiousness through a constant analysis of his current understanding and feelings of Kip – the nostalgia and confusion, his creepily buoyant, jaunty and enthusiastic behaviour – following Kyle out into the snow, staring at him from under his hair, the faint awareness that Kip wasn't there for the books. It's surreal that Kyle is exposing himself to this man again, his demeanour spiked Kyle's apprehension and Kyle is fluxed with unrest and a disquiet aggravation. Why is he doing this again? Oh yeah, because he promised.

Now here, Kip hovering attentively by his side, mentioning his reservation with a stutter and a certain dizziness to his voice Kyle can't place, Kyle feels out of place. His body sways and Kyle's wonders if Kip is nervous too, he sure looks it: his foot taps on irregular beats, out of time to the live band that plays a traditional, Mexican instrumental; he gnaws on his bottom lip, irritating it until it becomes red and succulent from spit. The two stand out and Kyle hopes that he has put enough distance between the them to not cause too much gossip, but the reservation and the waitress' inquisitive eyes tell him differently.

"Sígueme." The waitress says in Spanish, hollering them with the menu and stalking towards an empty bay. She indicates the table and waits for them to situate themselves before handing them the menus. "¿Qué le gusta beber? What would you like to drink?" She asks again in English. Her smile is plastic and unwavering, she nods whilst the boys order, then leaves after repeating them in both Spanish and English for confirmation.

"I didn't think you'd actually come, you know." Kip starts, "I got so worried because you seemed taken aback I thought I had scared you." He gives an awkward, apologetic smile; rubbing the back of his neck to emphases. "I mean, it was probably in bad taste to ask a stranger out like that." He continues, smiling. "It's just everything's been really rough lately and I've only just returned to South Park. That's not really an excuse though. I'm sorry. It's just, you were the only person there for me at one point – I felt seriously alone and you changed that, thank yo- fuck! Sorry, I need to stop coming straight out with the sentimental shit." He apologises again, and suddenly Kyle is at a loss of words and emotions. He had originally thought Kip was something else entirely and yet before him sits nothing like the socially awkward, unstable, manic that he had depicted.

"Its fine," Kyle responds, "Man, that seriously sucks- but yeah, I'm glad eight year old me helped, even if it was for a little while."

"Yeah, thanks." He blushes, whispering the words in an embarrassed spit. "You haven't changed much from what I remember anyway. I think that's why I recognised you. But then again, no one really changes here."

"Yeah, it's like we've chosen clothes and matched are lives around them." Kyle laughs, indicating his clothes and the present orange and green items that he garments. "Plus, puberty only helped me in becoming hairy. Everywhere." He continues, motioning parts of his body that are the most difficult to shave.

"I can see a bit of a beard ghosting you actually." Kip indicates, pointing a finger towards Kyle. Kyle's hands fly to his chin to feel the stubble and he pulls a heated, playful smoulder when he doesn't feel anything.

"Ha ha, very funny." He retorts sarcastically. And just like his anxiousness, his opinion and understanding of Kip melts into a petty first impression that Kyle is ready to modify. Kip isn't as over bearing and creepy as first expected, yet his gut tingles with uncertainty. Kyle knows that stubbornness is family trait and letting go of his initial reaction isn't something Kyle is keen to do, no matter how sour he feels over his previous misjudgements.

Their conversations spikes a different note after ordering and soon Kyle's worries are momentarily misplaced. After the waitress leaves a third time with their orders documented, the two wander past Black Bard's Cave to the waterfall, where they potter along the river bank and wait for the drivers to perform their ritual. Their mindless chatter creases when the first drives, mesmerised as he descends into a pool of water. His impact into the water barely recognising a splash. It's this notion that causes Kyle to crack a laugh.

"Oh God, I remember coming here for my birthday once." He starts, looking up momentarily at Kip before returning his gaze to the second diver preparing for his jump. "I didn't invite Cartman, so he hid Butters, told him the apocalypse was happening and that the survivors of earth were slowly being turned into zombie cannibals. Then when we found out, we were already here. _So…"_ He stops, watching the second descend and enter the water flawlessly. They turn to walk back to the table and when they sit, Kyle continues the basis of his story. "So, he grabs me as some sort of hostage whist he makes a runner into Casa Bonita to try and do everything he was desperate for within one minute before the cops got here. Oh my god, it was so funny."

Soon the story occupies the majority of the night, supported by other instances with Eric Cartman – it's almost refreshing to past childhood stories onto someone new, everyone else he wishes to share his stories with have heard it all before, or were involved in the incident. Kyle enjoys talking about his childhood, he doesn't do it frequently and when he and Kenny reminisce on it, it's never anything too in depth.

The scenery is striking, portraits hang around them, Kyle identifies Benito Juarez; one of the most famous Mexican presidents he can conjure – Kyle calls him the Mexican Abraham Lincoln. Others hang around him, however not framed as grandly, rimmed by a gold decorative boarder that glistens daringly against its counterparts. Their food arrives and the conversation softens, falling into a lax murmur between bites. Kip asks about Kyle's current affairs, and Kyle has to stop himself from revelling about Kenny. He elects for Stan and his move away to university, and even a fleeting moment for Cartman's current standings, which the details he's unsure of. When Kip gives him the same vague answer to his own question, Kyle notes his murky tone and registers that there might be something more.

"So, where are you living at the moment?" Kyle asks perfunctorily, focusing more on his tacos then Kip's lodgings.

"In my parent's old house." He responds ambiguously, leaving Kyle guessing, why? He doesn't question it more, feeling rude and obtrusive. The conversation slips back towards Kyle and he struggles to answer, where is he living? It's a mix between his childhood home and Kenny's apartment – nothing has been declared officially, but Kyle has a key for Kenny's and uses it frequently (almost more than his own.)

"I'm between places, actually." Kyle begins to explain, deciding it would be better to drop in his boyfriend than to not; he's uncertain of how Kip will take it and is scared of a negative reaction to his gayness. He speaks fluently about Kenny, describing him like water and air – a necessity. He wants to blabber about how Kenny's hair curls in the morning and how his snores sound more like a plane, how he makes awful coffee but Kyle drinks it all anyway because Kenny had made it for _him_. He wants to recite Kenny's good night kisses and his dozy poetry before bed, he wants to talk about their stupid drives into mountains on cut off roads and how Kenny's eyes come alive when he sees Kyle smile. But he doesn't.

Instead he mentions Kenny's heterochromia and when he got his key and how his parents and Ike are near the east coast. He mentions Ike's scholarship for a programme about things he's barely heard of. Through it he notices his boredom, his lack of adventure and drive that he used to detest when he was young. He misses his and Stan's Friday afternoons after school where they'd ditch homework for PlayStation or Xbox. His misses his Sundays with Kenny after Church, where they'd head down to Stark's pond and sit; Kenny still in his suit and Kyle wearing both a jacket and a coat. Their faces red from snow and embarrassment, and how they wouldn't really speak but leave with a peak on the lips.

"McCormick?" Kip awakens him from his trance, using his limited trivia to question if it's the correct person he's talking about.

And Kyle's dopey smile says "yes."

.

The bill is split evenly between the two of them, and they leave promptly after they place it. Waiters call "Gracias." "Por favor venga otra vez." "Adiós." After them as they slowly stalk away from the restaurant into the night of South Park. Kip's face is flourishing with colour and he looks unprepared for the night's weather. Kyle offers up his muffler reluctantly, he has to fold the scarf around Kip's neck to stop his evident display of confusion when faced with the task of putting it on. Kyle gives a quiet, accomplished smile when the scarf is fixed into place and lets Kip linger mindless after adjusting it before continuing their walk.

Kyle had forgotten to mention to Kenny about picking him up later, yet he doesn't mind walking through the endless streets of South Park, he knows that his town is fairly safe and he understands what to do if faced with trouble. He is unsure of how Kip will find his way home and comes to a silent agreement with himself to not walk him there. However, Kip offers to walk Kyle home and wins through persistence. They stroll towards Kenny's home silently, the snow crisp under their feet and a hazy dribble still secretes from the greying sky as if its emptying the final remains of today's downpour. Kyle leads Kip through winding backroads and dimly lit passages; the snow hasn't been touched in many areas and between them both, they manage to glide unstably along others. Kyle falls completely at one point, clinging to Kip and causing them both to crash onto the floor, Kip's teeth clack against Kyle's chin and he lays fully on top of the shorter, squishing him. When they finally dust themselves off and regain their pace, Kyle feels a distasteful tingling within his gut, he restrains himself from wiping his chin more than once to remove the feeling of Kip's teeth, but finds himself waiting for Kip to look completely away so he can do it again.

This act continues for a short moment before the reach Kenny's gate. One of Kyle's hands rest firmly against it and the other begins to raise to wave Kip goodbye. However, Kip reaches out and grabs it, letting his hand snake lower until his fingers lace around Kyle's wrist and put it up towards Kip. Kyle isn't sure of what's happening, he begins stuttering sentences out to communicate: that he has a boyfriend; that he doesn't understand; if Kip could let go. But barely any registers on his tongue before Kip's other hand presses firmly into his palm and gives it a firm shake goodbye. Although the handshake is brief, Kip's fingers don't retreat for an elongated second, whirling the sticky, distressed tingles within Kyle and causing them to blossom.

"Thanks for tonight, it's been real fun – oh and sorry for falling on you and all." He gives a strained sigh, where he tucks his hands into his pockets and proceeds to step back. "Well then, I hope we meet in the near future. Goodbye, Kyle."

And yet again, Kyle is thrown into a turmoil of emotion and thinks, _"yeah, I bet you'll make sure of it."_


	2. Pink Umber

Chapter Two – Pink Umber.

Kenny's eyes drift towards his alarm clock at the sudden spike of muddy, blurred voices from outside. He wonders momentarily it his local drug dealing is starting his rounds for tonight. He hears the door click open, and when his brief panic subsides, he presumes Kyle's home. A murmur of footsteps draw towards him and Kenny props himself onto his elbows to hear them better. "Ky?" He calls out groggily, the outburst of sound brings forth a yawn within him and through it he hears Kyle's lethargic moan in reply. His footsteps are lazy and uneven and Kenny wonders if he is tired too.

The door clicks open timidly, and through it appears Kyle, looking petite and drowsy; tiny hands peak from the cuffs of oversized coats and poke from their confinements to wiggle zips and strip off heavy layering of clothes. Each layer falls around him, dropping discarded and disremembered on the floor for the morning. He strips himself down to only his white button down shirt, crumpled from being hurriedly smuggled into trousers and kept pressed in such a fashion for hours on end. Kenny knows he will be the one to wash out those creases in the morning but forgets as soon as he remembers when Kyle's hands snake towards him.

The fall from a kiss into a lousy embrace, Kyle's legs are loosely thrown over Kenny's and their fingers swarm in their laps, entwined. Kyle rests his head against Kenny's chest, fingers clipping against Kenny's top and worming behind his neck. Slumped in a lazy position, he drowsily huffs into Ken's shoulder blade. He begins in a cottony voice; crackled and hoarse, overworked from a day of artificial kindness and smiles; "It was awful."

"Was it?"

Kyle wonders if it was truly awful "–No, it's just on the way home _,_ I became really reserve, like he was doing it on purpose."

"What happened on the way home?"

"I don't know- nothing? He fell on me and his teeth touched my chin." He replies matter-of-factly, desperate to emphases a forged apathetic tone in his voice. He leans away and regards Kenny. "I don't care, I'll probably never see him again, and if I do, it'll probably be just those default greetings."

Kenny – disregarding the conversation – presses forward and imbeds an individual peck onto Kyle's chin, drawing back with a mousy expression; lax and tender. His eyes droop to find Kyle returning the same expression, leaning forwards, presenting a surly smile and a lusty overbite, mewing; "Do that again." Kenny does, dotting a kiss on his chin before lingering over his lips, lungs heavy and firm. He locks an open mouth kiss onto Kyle, letting him slack his fingers through his hair, their position making it easily to guide Kenny over him and fall panting onto the duvet.

They continue their slow soldering dance of tongues, lusty peckers sweet nibbles and low grumbles. Their lips loiter and latch when being pulled apart and return more desperately before, a building passion of momentum and need. Kyle's fingers draw from their hold in Kenny's hair to run down his chest and back around to his shoulder blades, where he scratches his name untidily into Kenny's skin and listens erotically to Kenny's shuddering breaths. This ballad of heated tonguing renders an interval when they pull away finally, heaving and puckered; swollen, ruby lips, furrowed ready for another round. They smirk disjointedly at each other, communicating only through raised eyebrows and glazed eyes.

When Kenny sits back up, resting on Kyle's legs and staring down at him, he wonders if Kyle's lust bounces off his own emotional need for Kenny. If they both resonate into one gooey mess that is Kyle – horny, needy and thirsty. He wonders what Kyle is thinking right now; is it the heat of their bodies, compressed together? This emotional and physical need for him? An endless thought of Kenny, whom he is defencelessly in love? Kenny ponders thoughtless, his lungs like deflated balloons. He pants through his smile; Kyle looks so peaceful and willing beneath him, his hands planted on Kenny's thighs and his breathing matching Kenny's.

"We never got to finish earlier. Wanna start from where we finished?"

"Gee–" Kyle begins, sarcastic and playful. "I can't seem to remember, how about we start from the beginning to see if you can jog my memory?"

Kenny wheezes inwardly, pulling a face that jokes; _I don't know._ "Fine, only this once." He allows, leaning forward to recapture Kyle's mouth before releasing it for better of his skin; ripe and white, flush against his neck. He suckles against it, providing soft nips and prolonged licks that exploit Kyle's whimpers. Slowly, he voyages downward, pulling apart buttons and fondling the new skin with his mouth, dousing it in his own saliva and scent. So accustomed to Kyle's skin he can pinpoint each freckle and locate precisely where the birth mark on his shoulder blade lies. He could paint Kyle's vibrant bottle green eyes, adding precise flicks of brown to the centre and deep ring of green to the perimeter of his irises. He could mix the perfect shade of copper for his hair, and dip his brush into a light mushroom shadow for his freckles. However, he feels it impossible to ruin Kyle with his inexperienced hand. He will never be able to add that perfect orange tint to his eyelashes or the pale nudity to his lips. Never able to get that clip in his front left tooth correct from where he got in a fight when he was twelve. Never able to create _his_ perfect Kyle. Delicate and little yet so undeniably resilient and robust. Truly a masterpiece that Kenny never fails to adulates.

He returns to from his worship to Kyle's skin, adoring it with a murmur of kisses and gnaws, leaving questionable marks down his torso. Kyle's fingers travel to push Kenny away from his skin with a gentle giggle, "I get it, ok!" he chortles. Their moments like this are so common and ordinary that casual chewing is often skipped as their build up is each other, not their foreplay.

Kenny sits back up with a pout, which he can't contain before he breaks into a gleam, smiling boyishly down at Kyle. "I never get to bite you these days." He remarks, a hovering indication of his pout still noticeable through his fat bottom lip.

"You what? Kenny, you started biting me when we were like, _what?_ 13?" He retorts, "Dude, Kenny. I'm supposed to be married with two kids by now!"

"Kyle, you're only twenty three."

"I'm twenty four in a few months!" he argues back, teasingly sulking and using a bratty drawl to specify his point.

"So?" He shrugs; "what's your point? Wanna marry me?"

"Don't ask me that when I'm hard." He snaps.

"Fine, but Kyle, dude – _I love you."_

"No Kenny, you're not biting me!" He ripostes, understanding Kenny's ulterior motive behind those words; words he truly believes are humble and factual. And even when they're used so simply or as a joke, Kyle can't help the fleeting fluster within his stomach which briefly helps him to appreciate Stan's _Love Sickness._

"Alright, no biting. But, I mean it…" Kenny imparts, leaning forward to kiss Kyle's cheek; flourished peach and tinted with gingered grey freckles. He extracts himself away, noticing Kyle's eyes open and centre on him, tapered and relaxed. His rich, bottle green eyes dilate into a sharp, almost yellow colour that Kenny adores.

Everything about Kyle had its own unique symmetry, Kenny had found a freckle on his shoulder that he believes appears in the same spot on his other shoulder. The colour in his eyes hold more symmetry than Kenny's, who apart from the obvious colour difference, finds that each of his eyes have been created separately – as if woven together by two different hands. His eyes filter down to Kyle's parted lips, bruised pink and tinted with a speckle of claret in the centre, tiny indented creases splay over his lips and Kenny finds himself enthralled – drowning in Kyle.

Kyle's face contorts as Kenny regains his fondles, he studies the lines that appear on the outer side of Kyle's eyes and between his brows, the way his eyes looses that yellowness briefly when a deep shimmer of deep jade overpowers them. Kyle moans through his nose, his fingers guide Kenny's head to his lips, tantalising caresses and alluring pecks overrule him and when they part clumsily, Kenny continues in a unconscious blurt; "I really wanna marry you."

"Kenny, don't say me that whilst you're touching my dick!"

He smirks, shuffling back to sit upright and rearranging them both so Kyle's legs part over his knees. "I'd come home and shout ' _honey, I'm home'_ and call you my wife and have children with you and–"

"Wife?"

" _Fine,_ but you'd still be mine."

"I am yours Kenny, drop it."

"Marry me, Kyle."

"Kenny!" It comes out more a moan than anything, his hand quivers over his mouth and he can't believe that he's just going to come from being jacked off again. He leans upwards and Kenny reads this indication to stop briefly. Kyle would probably let him bite him now but Kenny no longer feels like teasing Kyle whilst they're so content like this.

They both fiddle and grunt until Kenny is hovering over Kyle again, connected and blissful. Kenny sighs brokenly, his hands rest of Kyle's legs, freshly shaven and twitching in deligh– a clunk ricochets next to the window ceil, rousing them from their trance painfully; Kenny's jitter causes him to stab wildly into Kyle, which triggers a yelp. "Ken, don't do that!" He hisses, forgetting about the sudden intrusion of foreign noise momentarily.

"Dude, someone's outside." Kenny strains in a loud whisper, looking worriedly down at Kyle. They both stare at the wall where the noise presented itself from. "Get off my property or else I'll shoot you!" Kenny growls through a shout. Kyle has to giggle finding it far too comical and radical that someone could possibly be outside spying on them, however he finds himself to be no longer in the mood due to the chilling wonder. _What if there was someone there?_

Kenny pulls out and rolls down his shirt, still feeling playful but no longer horny, he finds himself half listening to Kyle and half listening to how his house groans. He hears the jittering boiler and the radiator clicking, but nothing more. He turns and settles adjacent to Kyle, not really focusing on him but viewing him with a vague expression. His mind lays to their aforementioned blithe conversation. _Marry me, Kyle!_

"I'm picturing you with purple wisteria draped around you and you in this gorgeous white suit with a top hat–"

"Purple?" Kyle questions like it's the stupidest thing he's heard all evening. "Ginger, green and purple. What a brilliant colour pallet. No it would be this gorgeous sunset orange, an earthy, autumn tone – you know, like a mix of burnt sienna and a golden peachy tone. We would have peach Dahlias on the tables because they're my favourites and all the women would've have to wear those obscure hats and–" he catches himself and rouges, embarrassed at his sudden openness about his own potential wedding. He peers up at Kenny who looks so delighted that Kyle calls him an idiot.

"What like the orange of my old parker?" He encourages.

"I'm not saying anything else."

"How stupid a hat are we talking?" Kenny tries prompting again, enthralled with what Kyle wants for his wedding. A wedding he had obviously planned from a young age from the detail and preciseness Kyle has already exhibited.

Kyle taps his nose twice, "It's a secret."

Kenny crosses his arms pathetically, and Kyle uses this leeway to push him off of the bed, propelling him with his leg so Kenny falls backwards with a squawk and giggle, beneath him Kyle hears Kenny grumbling and fumbling below him, fumbling about until he springs upward with a hidden agenda, evident by his churlish smile.

Kenny straddles him and his hands labour to urge Kyle onto his elbows and then onto his back; where it tours from his shoulder lower, meandering over his chest and towards the end of his ribcage. Swiftly Kyle catches Kenny's motive " _no_!" He squeaks as Kenny thunders down, under and up his ribcage, digging his index and middle fingers under his last rib and witnessing Kyle deform in weakness – his short-lived limpness ignites Kenny with a hasty snatch at Kyle's wrists. He holds them captive by his ears and his dissimilar eyes blaze with a juvenile glimmer above him as Kyle regains his composure.

"Cheap move, McCormick." He wheezes, giving an untroubled tug to his encased wrists before giving up wholly and revolving his head somewhat to accompany Kenny's keen closeness and swelling curiosity. And as Kenny keeps pressing as to why Kyle isn't talking more about their potential wedding, Kyle feels himself losing it, why can't Kenny just drop it. Kyle grits his teeth irritably, smacking his lips in a way to humour himself against Kenny's oblivion to Kyle's emotional change.

"I don't want to get married, ok!" He bites. "I was just humouring you. Marriage is one of the only things I couldn't see myself doing… after line dancing." He wheezes out his biting tone and softens under Kenny's grip. "I'm sorry, I hadn't realised how much it meant to you. I just thought you were happy like this."

"I am, I'm sorry too," he sighs, realising Kyle and sitting back away from him. "I-It's just you started talking about marriage and I saw it, the flowers, our families. I'm happy with us now though Kyle. I'm just happy being with you."

Kyle pats the duvet surrounding him, shuffling slightly to tuck himself into it before calling to Kenny to do the same, "me too." He murmurs as they settle for sleep. "I'm so happy being this with you. I can't have anymore."

"I love you."

.

 _Brr brr._

Kyle's breath hitches, he sighs it free before letting out a light cough, uncaring to disrupt the silence that has already been broken by his awaking. He awaits anxious, turning himself over lazily and letting his fingers clip against Kenny's chest to alert him to the noise, "Put it snooze, _please."_ He grumbles apathetically to the other.

 _Brr brr._

"Good Morning," Kenny hushes, arm sloppily reaching over Kyle and embracing him, a morning ritual Kyle commonly forgets to enjoy; too tired and impatient to turn off the sound of the alarm clock, which screeches out ' _too early'_. Kenny crawls blindly over Kyle's form and switches off the device, trying to settle back between the sheets before Kyle edges out of it, hauling the sheets away with him. Kyle doesn't say anything when leaving the room to shower, but Kenny knows that he would go as far as pouring water over Kenny if he isn't up by the time he gets out. So he waits a minute which turns into five, he hears the water stop through the wall and makes a mad scramble to get up, he just manages to dart into the kitchen as Kyle opens the bathroom door, Kenny sticks some water in a pan to boil and places four pieces of toast in the oven to grill. He hates being poor, and hates Kyle waking up at his house to burnt bread and instant coffee, but Kyle never complains and Kenny is too proud to apologise for it.

He goes to shower and he hears Kyle's patter of fingers against the door as he walks past. He thinks of last night and how he couldn't sleep, staring at the highlights on Kyle's face and thinking about the last time he watched Kyle sleep; the night they finally got together, after months and months of fooling around and cheating on peers and darting out of the house at unruly hours just to suck each other's dicks. He thinks of how even when they finally made it official, Ken was dating Red and Kyle hadn't wanted to make it public so he continued dating her. He remembers how jealous Kyle was when he found out and how possessive he had been and Kenny didn't last an hour after they had finished fucking before he broke it with Red. He reminisces on how Kyle's _Ma_ tries to accept her Jewish son for dating a Christian boy, tries to understand and cope. She'd offer Kenny round for tea constantly, persisting on talking to him about Judaism and their customs and how one could reform. Kenny never really minded, he saw it that she was ok with him and Kyle together but she just wanted him to be Jewish too, he went to their synagogue a few times to please her; watching Kyle chant in Hebrew as he placed on a cape he couldn't remember the name of, and the rabbi being so pleased to greet him that he welcomed him in both Hebrew and English.

He stumbles out of the shower, chilled, yet satisfied. A realisation that he is ok with him and Kyle not being married, that as long as he and Kyle are in love and together he doesn't care what official term is used to talk about it. After getting changed he walks to the kitchen to have _I heart you_ written scruffily onto toast in Nutella and a cup of steaming coffee that Kenny knows will taste great because Kyle made it.

"I love you too," he murmurs into the empty house, " _so, so much."_ And Kenny is right, he truly doesn't care the word used to describe their relationship as long as he gets to keep telling Kyle these three simple words.

.

Kyle's morning is unproductive yet busy, swarms of customers request bundles of the same drinks with a slight variation. Tweak offers him leftovers at lunch that Kyle leafs through, the guilt from last night still evident in the way his shoulders hunch and his face distorts when he's left alone to mull over it for too long. He further serves 3 plain black coffees, 5 whites and 2 teas before he is faced with Kip, who seems just as surprised and put off as him. He joins the two person queue and Kyle silently begs that Tweak offers to take over – or at least Craig who has been sitting out back reading porn mags all morning.

"Kyle." Kip greets, pleasantly surprised and almost jolly. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah…" he responds, weary of how much he should reveal, "I've worked here since I was fifteen, the pay's plenty." He outlines, fingers clicking against the till without firmly pressing the buttons down. "What can I do for you today, Sir?" he continues, treating Kip like every other customer he has served. Oblivious to how Kip's eyes glimmer and the way his body slowly curls forward.

"Latte, please."

"Sure, are you sitting in or taking out?" he begs Kip leaves, the air is stuffy and Kyle is desperate to get onto the lady behind him who always wants the same obscure Starbucks shit each day.

Kip hums, his eyes flicker down towards the till then return back up at Kyle, "I'll sit in." he confirms. Kyle sends him away with a promise of it being delivered to him, but makes no effort to start the machine up or call for Craig to do it for him. He serves two other customers, and then when he finds the shop bare, he makes Kip's drink – he has been putting it off, yet if he does so for any longer Kip is entitled to complain. He adds a fancy wheat pattern with the milk and rushes it to Kip hoping to look too busy to chat. But with the shop vacant and rush hour coming to an end he has little excuse to shy away.

"Wow." Kip says when his drink is presented. "Holy shit that's good, did you do that?"

"Yeah," he smiles.

"I don't wanna drink it, it looks so pretty."

"It tastes better than it looks," He argues, feigning politeness, ready to turn his back and run into the storage room. He can't explain why he feels so unusual. Kip sets every sort of warning off, yet he seems too harmless to be a threat – Kyle finds himself wanting to run but he knows there isn't a precise reason why. He'd always seen himself as a confident people reader. From the way people carried themselves to the small reactions they revealed. Kyle feels he can learn a lot about someone just through these things. Yet, Kip, he is an untouched canvas, unmarred and left vacant of mistakes and masterpieces and perhaps that's what it is so scary to Kyle, the fact that he can't _read_ Kip. Kip is so concealed and everything about him lay hidden to Kyle's speculating eye.

"Hey Kyle," he calls softly, "do you not like me? Is it because of last night, if it is I'm sorry! It's Jus-"

"No." Kyle intervenes, caught in a purgatory of lying and being honest. This tone is something unlike the cheerful, artificial one Kyle had heard the night before, it had its own self gravelling sadness to it. Something Kyle hasn't heard yet. Perhaps – he has to wait for Kip to open himself to be able to understand him. It was similar for Kenny too, he remembers. He used to feel so confused and resentful when it came to Kenny, yet now–

"I'm sorry," he continues making up his mind. "I like you, Kip."

"Really!" He responds like a child, "The arcade here has been redone and I haven't been since I was like eight, wanna go with me?" and after the performance he just pulled – how could Kyle disagree?

* * *

I cannot believe it took me so long to upload this, School is sucking all my free time out of me. (and as you can see by this messy chapter that I haven't fully proof read, I also had a bit of writers block...)

Sorry, I'll try and get Chapter three up soon too.


	3. Winner's Red

Chapter Three – Winner's Red.

Kyle tugs at an icicle from the top of his doorway, encasing it with green, gloved fingers and snapping it at the centre. It has formed overnight and Kyle finds himself clipping them almost each morning. Although most days he discards them immediately in the plant pot next to his door, today he rolls it over with his fingers, feeling the ice spread through the fabric of his gloves and stick to the fibres; creating a crackling noise.

He supposes he is doing this to waste time; he feels somewhat silly spending his day off in a dingy arcade with someone who he doesn't know very well. Yet, he promised and Kyle is one to keep his promises. He turns his palm down and lets gravity pull the icicle away from his gloves, watching it fall and shatter in front of his feet. He steps over it, thinking about is fragility as he wanders towards the town. His walk takes about 20 minutes and his mind swiftly switches to his phone call with Ike last night and how they didn't talk about anything but the new _Final Fantasy_ game Ike is desperately waiting for. He notices that Kip is early again and almost wants to gallop towards him in hope that it'll reduce the frost bite he feels gnawing onto his fingers from his wet gloves.

"You're early." He greets, voice vibrant and cheery.

"I couldn't help it, I live close." Kip replies, mirroring Kyle's smile and tone.

They enter the arcade, and Kyle is stunned by the amount of remodelling the arcade has been through, he remembers the grimy smell of urine and the whitewashed walls with scribblings over them. A nostalgic wave of remembrance for when he and his friends would waste all their pocket money here; feeding the money converter dollar bills to receive cents instead and scavenging around to see if any uncollected money lay about in the gutters of games. They would take turns fighting pixilated zombies on dusty game screens with uncleaned controllers, desperate to see who would win so they could gain bragging rights. Kyle grew up playing casino games with them here, prohibited to those under 18 but they were never told to move when they fed the machine money only to never receive any back. He remembers the red carpet, matted with chewing gum and dirt. It had slowly washed from its vibrant red, to a dull dusty tone.

Now, flashing neon lights draw children towards each game, the walls blue and the floor and deep grey colour, clean and fresh. Each game is laid in rows, unlike the maze which it was before. Kyle almost feels disheartened and dejected, he feels his childhood being swept away like dust. He had almost forgotten things change and evolve, that nothing lasts for ever. The arcade offers food and there are no longer prizes or tickets. A feeling of acceptance washes over him, his memories aren't being thrown out with the flooring, because they are engraved in the walls, in his heart. He feels them locked tightly between his lungs, for him to remember.

"What?" Kip asks, looking at Kyle.

"Nothing, it's just so different to how it used to be."

"Ah, I remember, it used to be gross here." He glides forwards, eyeing a grabbing machine and the fluffy, small orange toys inside. Kip looks completely different, both in demeanour and dress. His hair is tied back into a crappy ponytail, which Kyle finds unappealing but better than it falling over his face. He seems to be smiling more, exiting his shell and exploring the roses.

They explore the arcade, coming across old games and enjoying them. Kyle feels somewhat out of place. He recognises that he and Kip are the only adults in there without kids, but Kyle tries to not let it faze him. He can almost sense Kip's mental fragility so he removes any underlying doubts he harbours and conquers any fears too. He is out because he promised Kip a good day.

Kyle find the renounced version of his old favourite game, he peers causally whilst watching two teenagers press the attached plastic guns to the shoulders and blast the zombie head's off.

"Do you want to play on that?" Kip asks, following Kyle's gaze towards the game.

"Nah, let them be. They kind of remind me of me and Stan when we were younger." He comments offhandedly, pushing his hands into his coat pockets and absently gripping his phone. "It's cute."

"Yeah, this place it a real nostalgic trip, huh." Kip agrees, "I left South Park quite young, but this place always remained so vivid in my memory. I was here so often."

"Really? Me too. I never remember seeing you though."

"I saw you a few times, actually. You four always looked so strange but so in synced. It was a peculiar sight."

"Oh?" Kyle questions.

"Well, you are the big guy- Eric, uh Carton?-"

"Cartman?"

"-Yeah, you two would be arguing or fighting or playing out a bet, sometimes just the two of you, sometimes all four of ya, you'd split into teams of two and it'd always be you and Stan I noticed, which is funny seeing how you ended up with Kenny."

"Yeah, I guess I do swing for the other team in some aspects." He giggles, oblivious to Kip's knowledgeable daze and the way he seems to dream out his thoughts before he tells them to Kyle.

"Where is Stan?" Kip asks abruptly, his eyebrows drawn tightly together only to undo just as fast. "Uh, I mean- I don't think I've seen him around, and I've been back for about two weeks and um…"

"He's just finishing college. He lives with Wendy, they go to the same one and they've got a kid. I haven't seen her yet though, she's only a few months old and they're all the way out in Pennsylvania so I barely see him anymore."

"Oh, what are they studying?"

"Wendy's doing something along the economic front, and I think Stan is doing Marketing."

"Don't you want to go to University?"

"My little brothers already at university, and my parents can't afford to also send me and I can't currently afford to pay for myself. I know I'll go someday, just not right now."

"You got any ideas on what you'd like to do?"

"Um… some. Another reason why I'm not to bothered at the moment is because I'm not entirely sure on what I'd like to do if I went, I don't know if I'd want to do business and establish my own company somewhere, or look into Law."

"Hm." Kip acknowledges, nodding his head. His eyes return to the grabbing machine and how he's perfectly centred over the orange, plain teddy, his eyebrows begin to knit together again as he lets the machine reach down and pluck the toy from the heap, it slips almost out from the grabber's grasp, however manages to reach the drop off before falling. "I did it." Kip murmurs to himself. "Finally!"

"Congrats!" He smiles, half enjoying the gleam in Kip's eyes and the way he darts hurriedly to retrieve his prize.

"Here, you have it." He says as he begins standing, leering the toy towards Kyle and waiting dolefully for him to accept it. His voice is crackly and unsure, yet he holds a defensive stance when Kyle tries to push the toy back towards him.

"I can't," he murmurs passively. "You keep it."

"Please." Kip pushes is a solemn, needy tone. "Just take it."

Kyle sighs as he accepts it, only nodding as a way of giving in, but it's enough to cause Kip to smile broadly. Now Kyle feels really silly, accepting toys from almost strangers and watching Kip's awkward, childish display. Even with just a year between them, Kyle feels so much older and wiser, Kip seems socially undeveloped; he can't respond to Kyle's profound comments and there isn't a breadth of things for them to talk about. He seems to jitter impatiently when there is silence between the two of them and Kyle wonders what Kip could be thinking of, could it be of Kyle himself, the arcade? The fact that other than small talk they haven't had a proper, extensive conversation?

Kip pauses, turning towards an old Pac-rat machine and ogling it with despair and longing, he gulps and turns away from it, his eyes barely leaving the banged up machine until he's fully facing Kyle.

"Dude what was that?"

"What?"

"You just looked like you were about to cry, you ok?"

"Uh, yeah." He starts, rubbing his neck and starring at the floor, hoping it will rise into a slimy mud monster and whisper to Kyle why instead of Kip having to do it directly. "My father used to take me here a lot before I left, he used to get so engrossed in that game." Pausing, he chuckles; "It's funny, I'd be the one pulling him away from this shitty thing. It fucking sucks seeing the damn thing still here." He jokes, glancing at it again and nudging it with his foot.

"I don't even understand what this game is?"

"It's a knock off of Pacman. Dad was like the 4th best player on this or something. I'm sure his name was on the high score list."

"Sweet. Wanna check if he's still there?"

"Nah, I might cry." He chuckles sadly, turning his back to the game and continuing towards the change converter.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it was my fault, I caused it. I was kind of hoping they'd throw this away though."

Kyle can only hum in reply, unsure of what to say and how to say it. He feels incredibly tense like his lungs are being filled with honey which are causing him to focus only on his deep breaths. Kip spares the machine one more distasteful glance before exiting the arcade. The air outside is exceedingly thin and it doesn't help Kyle's honey filled chest. They plunder towards the diner opposite, neither trying to spark a conversation.

 _It was my fault anyway._ What was? That Kip brought him here, that he saw the machine? What? Kyle ponders Kip's words, his sorrowful demeaning posture, the way he hinted at something a little darker and out of reach then Kyle could imagine. What had kip caused? Why is Kyle so drawn to the mystery that obscures him like a foggy, grey mist? Unclear whether it's good or bad, poisonous or not. Kyle is intrigued by Kip's unintentionally dark aura and why he can't seem to deem himself neither safe nor scared. He wants to figure out why Kip acts the way he does and why he was left, where he went and why he came back. Kyle wants to know why Kip plucked him from the masses and why he is so alarmed to let his motives slip.

 _._

Kyle sits pressed against the arm of his sofa, feet tucked under Kenny's thigh who sits resting against the other side playing video games – some horrific, violent gun game. Kenny plots out each step, flinching when coming into sudden enemies and twitching the remote as well. His tongue is out and his back is hunched forward, in a concentrated, fixed pose. He mumbles to himself and either swears in defeat or triumph and Kyle's eyes are fixed solely onto him.

He rests with his phone pressed to his ear, absently listening to Stan mutter about Christmas and how it will be his and his baby daughter's – Alice – first Christmas. Stan had mentioned barely months before that he and Wendy we're expecting a baby girl, much to Kenny's and Kyle's delight surprise when Kenny were to be announced God Father and Kyle an 'Uncle'.

"How's she keeping you?" He asks, as the conversation begins to dry.

"I don't know how to sleep anymore, but I think we're doing pretty well." Stan returns, sighing sweetly into the speaker. "Alice doesn't cry as much during the day anymore, only when we leave her for a long while – Wendy's thinking of moving her crib into our room, but I want her to learn to sleep by herself."

"It'd be more difficult later if you were to move it now." He agrees, tucking his feet further under Kenny's thighs.

"Exactly!" Stan jeers, Kyle imagines him swinging his hand in front of him in appreciation, perhaps waving a beer, but Kyle doubts he even drinks anything like that anymore. "Hey, Wends! Kyle agrees with me about the crib!" He calls distantly and Kyle distorts his face to chuckle, hearing her reply with a "Fuck off, Stan."

"Don't bring me into it!" He moans after Stan returns to the phone, smiling out his words, "Wendy scares me dude."

Stan liberates a deep, hearty chuckle that ruptures from his belly and leaves from his throat. "Speaking of Wendy – we're coming back to South Park!"

"What?!" Kyle gargles of the sudden statement, hurling himself forward rigidly trying to steadily comprehend Stan – who Kyle hasn't seen since his birthday in May. "For how long?" He asks excitedly, catching Kenny's attention who pauses his mission to turn to him.

"Stan's coming home." He mouths to Kenny, who reacts similarly, dropping his mouth open whilst raising his eyebrows. They're both so excited, Kenny moves his hands like he wants to take the phone from him, but Kyle nudges it away with his elbow, creasing his eyebrows towards Kenny as he listens to Stan speak.

"Only over Christmas, we'll be staying in her family's home until term starts again."

"Stan! I can't wait to see you- and little Alice too!" Kyle adds, smiling adorably at Kenny whilst he talks, suddenly overcome with his own plans for Christmas and Hanukkah, his parents and Ike will probably return home too, forcing Kyle out of his home into Kenny's or for him to spend some _quality_ _time_ with his family, alone.

"Give him to me." Kenny pleads, so Kyle says his goodbyes and hands the phone over, watching Kenny's face as he talks to Stan. Kenny is one of those people who will nod over the phone without realising and shake his hands about when explaining in hopes that it'll transfer through the phone. He peers at how Kenny is sitting almost facing him, his heterochromia eyes peering through grinning slits at Kyle and how when the excitement fades, his free hand travels to entwine with Kyle's fingers and he lets Kyle run his thumb over his own.


	4. Beige Soup

Chapter Four – Beige Soup.

.

Two weeks comes too slow for Kyle, the anticipation of being reunited with his family and best friend almost made him sleepless, too many times during the past fortnight had be woken up far too early for his liking, plagued with thoughts about Stan's baby and Ike's new _drastic_ haircut which Ma disapproves off. He finds himself starring at Kenny during these hours, besotted by his deep blonde lashes, his tasselled brows and taunting lips, he want to kiss Kenny until he opens his eyes and he wants to scream _'I love you, mine, mine, mine'_ until his lungs ache and his voice is broken and Kenny is repeating, ' _I'm yours, yours, yours_.'

Kyle agrees he thinks far too quickly during these hours because he ponders everything and when Kenny finally begins to stir after several awful hours of pondering, Kyle is halfway to believing he knows why a raven is like a writing desk, yet he forgets when reunited with Kenny's smile.

"Up early again?" He questions this morning, Kyle hums and takes this as his chance to finally slip out of bed, planting a kiss to Kenny's forehead. "You know you can wake me." He calls after Kyle, who's halfway out the door and trying to recollect the distinct shade of ink.

It Friday morning and if they weren't expecting Kyle's family to appear at the airport in the next six hours, Kyle would already be at work, unlocking the shop and clicking his tongue at the distasteful graffiti that has wound up on the metal sheeting that protects the shop from burglars. He's thankful he's in his family home so he can ground coffee beans and make a proper cup instead of using the instant blend at Kenny's house. The noise rouses Kenny from the bedroom, he collapses into a breakfast chair which stands against the kitchen's island. He lays his head on it, only lifting it up to view the coffee Kyle's placed before him.

"I've slept so much compared to you, yet I'm still tired."

"Well, considering that it's only half seven, I would expect you to be." Kyle counters, pulling himself up alongside Kenny, the stool wobbling slightly as Kyle situates himself onto it.

"That's probably the worst part!" Kenny sulks, waving his coffee around and ignoring Kyle's sizzling hummer when he spills some of it down his wrist. "I still don't get why I'm awake this early if we finished all the jobs yesterday. I finally get a day off, and I'm up earlier than normal."

"We're still going to be busy today! We need to go food shopping for a meal tonight, finally put some gas into my car so I can drive down in it later to pick my family up. And," Kyle leers, his voice hushing as he leans forwards, his knee presses against Kenny's, his eyes ablaze; "I want to rechristen the house before we leave for the month."

.

"How many Jewish people does it take to buy meat?" Kenny pries desperately, waving his hands at the long queue of people gathered in front of them.

"That sounds like the introduction to a joke." Kyle replies, ignoring Kenny's impatient attitude. This is the only kosher place in South Park and Kyle intents to use it to its fullest with his parent's arrival tonight. Kenny's still fidgeting, he hates standing in the cold and staring at bloody joints of holy meat. It's the smell more than anything he decides, he peers at his watch and shakes himself, ignoring the two women in front of him who simmer their conversation to turn and stare.

"I'm starting to feel queasy." He whines, slouching himself forward to look frail.

"Kenny, you've been a meat eater all your life, what's your problem?" Kyle states, ignoring his pathetic display, starring dazedly at his checklist for tonight. They come in here often enough for Kenny to have gotten used it, yet each time they have the same conversation, mostly because Kyle likes teasing Kenny about his irrational fear of food.

"It's the blood!"

"Kenny, all meat has blood in it?"

"There's no such thing as a bloody chicken nugget, Kyle!"

"Right…"

"Who asks for a medium rare fish finger? Who?"

"No one, I get it." He smiles, pushing against Kenny. "You can stand outside if you want, we're almost at the front."

"I want..." he murmurs as he squeezes past the two old ladies, who stop their order to turn and peer at him. He ignores the way the butcher cuts a slab of unknown meat on the counter and how its blood pools around it. He hovers outside until Kyle appears, holding a blue and white stripped plastic bag and reaching out for Kenny's hand. "What were those ladies saying?"

"I don't know, I can't speak Hebrew."

"You can speak a little."

"Not really." Kyle shrugs nonchalantly, handing Kenny the plastic bag instead of his palm. Kenny takes it with a whimper, pouting back at Kyle. "You know they drain the meat here right?" He's still looking at his list, mentally checking off everything he's collected, he's glad to see that they're almost gathered everything.

"Obviously not enough, I can still see it."

"You're strange." Kyle dismisses, gripping Kenny's free hand and smiling up at him, his eyes closing partly as he entwines their fingers. He presses himself into Kenny whilst doing this, a romantic notion that's ignored due to its constant use. He raises their joined hands and points forward; "Now, onto the grocery store!"

.

"Kyle?"

He turns to find Kip also checking out soup cans. He's smiling up at Kyle, holding a tin of _Isaac's Chicken Broth_ in his left hand and basket in the other. He looks dirty; hair wet and thin, tied up in loose, straggling curls with stick down the side of his forehead. His eyes are dull and droopy and tired. He looks ill, but Kyle doesn't question anything, he doesn't want to involve himself any further into Kip with his parent's arrival tonight – he doesn't want to involve himself in general; especially now with Christmas and Stan coming. He doesn't know Kip well enough to poke his nose into business that isn't meant for him, so he ignores his sunken demeanour and grins back.

He doesn't know what to say, he wants to blurt " _I didn't think I'd find you here"_ which would be stupid or " _I just can't seem to escape you"_ which is even worse, so he tightens his hold on Kenny's fingers and tugs him forward, "This is Kenny." He introduces, jerking his head in Kenny's direction as if Kip might get confused who Kenny is with no one else around to mistake him for.

"Ah," Kip motions in recognition, dropping his Chicken Broth into his basket and stepping forward, "Nice to meet you." He greets, fingers outstretched for Kenny to return. He drops Kyle's hand to take Kip's; ignoring the intense, vice hold which leaves his palm white and pulsing.

"Why are you buying so much soup?" Kenny asks before Kyle can reengage the conversation towards himself, "Stocking up for winter?" Kenny lets out a boisterous, forced laugh which Kyle cringes at, irked that Kenny has to question Kip's shopping habits and how his voice sounds belittling.

Kip lets out the same forced chuckle, bewildered, he brushes a curled hair away from his face, "Yeah, something like that…" He mutters, his eyes flickering to Kyle briefly whilst he speaks.

"You can never have enough soup." Kyle intervenes, smiling weakly "I love soup – especially–" he peers at the soup tins closest to him – "leak and potato." He struggles to rebalance the conversation, dropping the can into his bag and pinching Kenny's thumb when he goes to correct Kyle.

"Yeah?" Says Kip weakly, his eyebrows softly pressed together and his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lips. He's mulling something over in his mind, Kyle gathers, his fingers ripple against the basket as he drums them, body hunching as his mind retreats elsewhere as Kip studies them both.

"We should go." Kenny points before Kip can question whatever's on his mind. "Nice meeting you." He calls as he turns them both around and begins walking away from him. Kyle waves over his shoulder and sighs as he looks away.

"Who is that?" Kenny asks when they're far enough way.

"Kip. The guy who took me to Casa Bonita."

"He's weird." Kenny revokes, his fingers squeezing tightly onto Kyle's, he peers down; "Do we like him?"

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure."

.

They've been home barely 15 minutes before Kyle is giving Kenny a wanton, breathless gaze which has Kenny dropping his ladle and hastily switching the stove off to stalk towards him, he presses his lips against Kyle's cheek briefly, gesturing his intentions. Kyle keens around him, developing Kenny into himself and whining boisterously.

"I've waited too long." His body yearning towards Kenny's fingers. "Please. Cook later."

It's a moment of long lazy kisses, which turn into a passionate, starving string of needy kissing. Kenny lifts Kyle easily, refusing to unlatch his mouth from Kyle's as they wobble around the kitchen until Kyle's back's laid against the table and his legs hang wide and limp for Kenny to pull himself between. Kenny's kisses begin to get jumbled, he travels down the side of Kyle's mouth, pressing himself into Kyle's chin and jaw and throat. His hands glide up underneath Kyle's top, brushing past his abdomen and feeling him clench unconsciously at the ticklish feeling.

"Let's do it in all our favourite places." Kyle whispers when Kenny reunites their lips, "We can start in the kitchen and finish in the shower."

"You need to leave to get your parents in an hour. Will we have enough time?"

"We'll make time."

.

Sheila has been raving about a woman on the plane for the last 10 minutes, huffing as she repeats herself, she's reserved the front seat in Kyle's car, wildly waving her hands about as she reiterates the flight over and 'the incessantly rude woman and her crying child.'

"H-how's you and Kenny doing?" Gerald interrupts when he can, his wife turns from the front see to glare at him briefly before engaging with Kyle's talk of Kenny.

"We're doing really well, Kenny recently got a promotion so after Christmas he's going to quit his second job at Burger King and focus solely on mechanics, the owner wants Kenny to get a degree in Engineering so he can take over the business, and I'm doing well at Tweak's Coffee now that I'm the Store Manager."

"Is Kenny going to go for it?"

"Hopefully this time next year we'll have enough saved for him to go someplace, we haven't really started looking with everything that's happening. But I really want him to go."

"Stan's coming back to South Park, isn't he?" Sheila quips, squeezing months of information out of Kyle in seconds, they'll talk about it over the next few weeks in more detail. But for now, Sheila craves gossip, needs to know everything that has happened whilst she's been away living with Ike and leaving Kyle alone to run her house for her.

"Stan's coming back for Christmas so we're all going to celebrate together and we're going to finally meet little Alice – their daughter. He and Wendy are getting here next week, they're staying with Wendy's family because Stan can't trust his."

"That's because Randy is a douchebag."

"Ike!" Both his parents bark, quipping their heads around to glare at him. Kyle lets out a soft, whishing chuckle, he's missed them all so much. He's a little sad that he has to leave his childhood home for the next few weeks to camp out at Kenny's, but it's his choice and sleeping in a bed alone would almost be torture. So, he blinks back his sorrow and smiles, because he's seeing his family again after 12 long weeks apart.

"What do you think Ike? Now that you're the expert, should Kenny consider university for his engineering degree?"

"Definitely, if he doesn't mind selling his soul to the Devil of Academia. I'm so glad my course is over for the year."

"Yes, but you need to make sure that you're on top of your revision, it doesn't matter if you are an academic genius who finished all his high school exams by age 12. It doesn't mean you get to slack off!" Shelia pipes in, her finger raised for exaggeration, Kyle wonders how many times they've already had this conversation from Ike's telling sigh and his dramatised eye-roll.

"Say that one more time and I'll burn all my books."

"I won't care it doesn't affect me or my life." Sheila quips back, Ike's growl of frustration is drowned out by Kyle's laugh; it's good to have them back.


	5. Purple Midnight

Chapter Five – Purple Midnight.

 **What a sentimental piece of shit this chapter is:) enjoy. I'm dedicating it to Courtanie who moved me with the most precious review that I wrote this is in record time.**

"Don't tease me."

"We always do this when we're cooking, or when people are expected over."

"We always do this. Period. Now stop teasing me Kenny!" Kyle whines, waving his ladle about and bucking up into Kenny's palm. He's been pressed into the kitchen side, naked except for his sprawled, loose cooking apron which buckles and extends away from the body, allowing Kenny to peer down at Kyle's chest. His cock is being slackly held by Kenny's teasing hand. "Please," he begs, shakily breathing and letting Kenny kiss down the side of his neck, "We've got loads of time, so fuck me."

Kenny chuckles into Kyle's neck, unable to keep up his serious demeanour, his hand scallops around and develops Kyle's hip; lightly scratching the skin as it passes. "Say it a little louder and I'll comply."

"Fuck sake, you really piss me off you know that." He growls, tapping the ladle against Kenny's shoulder in protest.

"I know that. c'mon Ky, please?"

"Fuck m–!"

"Kyl– Holy fuck!" A voice protrudes from the doorway, the duo whip around to see Stan hastily stumbling out of their house, a hand concealing his red face. They turn and gape at each other for a diminutive second, terrified wide eyes peering at each other before they begin to struggle to modest themselves and chase after him.

"Stan!" Kyle calls, trying to pull his shirt through his apron whilst locating his jeans. Kenny's already gone, running after and out of the house, leaving Kyle to panic alone.

"You're here an hour early?" Kenny struggles, slowing to a halt after re-joining his guests outside.

"Sorry," Wendy intervenes, struggling to put together a pushchair, "We didn't think the traffic would be this light." She seems blatantly unfazed by Kenny's unzipped jeans and his sporadically sprawled hair. Kyle appears, looking very similar, his shirt sits uncomfortably under his apron, and has ridden up over his back strap where it hasn't been tucked in properly. Wendy blinks at them blandly, before her apathetic glance turns into a cunning one. "Well, at least me and Stan can finally settle the debate on who tops." She giggles, "I win, Stan you owe me."

"Yeah, yeah." He dismisses, unpinning his daughter from her car seat and parading her around to where Kyle and Kenny stand. For such a young baby, she already has a thick lock of dark brown hair, with big brown eyes to match. She stares at Kyle dazzlingly, gurgling to herself as she raises a hand to wave at him. Her dummy has fallen, but it's clip on attachment means that Stan can easily feed it to her again whilst he gently rows her in his grip.

"Oh my god!" Kenny squeals, already infatuated with the infant, he doesn't make a move towards the child, instead squeezing onto Kyle's nearest arm and wiggling it in joy, "She's so cute, already looking so much like Wendy!"

They gather themselves in the lounge, Kyle finishes cooking in the kitchen, struggling to adjust himself back into his clothing, he returns to the lounge to find Kenny coddling Alice, he rocks her slowly in his hand and pulls endearing faces to make her babble. There's a soft silence, everyone just gazing fondly at the child and how easy she is to please.

"We're sorry," Stan begins after watching Kyle sit himself close to Kenny and press his index finger to Alice's nose, "We probably should've knocked…"

"Ah, don't sweat it." Ken shrugs, "It's not like that's gonna be the last time."

"We have some other news we need to tell you." Wendy begins; her voice affirmative and clear, yet she cowers behind Stan, waiting for him to bestow their news to them.

"You're not pregnant already, are you?"

"No, no! We're engaged to be wed – we're having an engagement party on the Friday too. Please come, please be the best men at my Wedding." Alice is slowly past back to Wendy, Kyle's face bare of shock, they counter onto Stan quickly, pouncing at him and squealing "Yes, yes, yes!"

.

Sharron's currently holding Alice, parading her in kisses as the room begins to simmer, people hush themselves into a silence, peering dazedly at Stan and Wendy. They're both smiling, they're still holding hands and Kyle can see Stan squeeze Wendy's palm ever so slightly in encouragement. He's the first to speak; "Thank you everyone for coming tonight, we've been away for so long that it's been great seeing you all again – tonight's been full of surprises." He continues, "First with the announcement of our baby and now this;" He pauses, holding Wendy's claimed hand up and letting the thick diamond glimmer like a disco ball around the room, "We're engaged to be wed too!"

Thick cheers sound around them, Kyle peers over to see Cartman scoffing; no doubt laughing at the corniness of this announcement to hide his consuming jealously. He sees Butters clapping overbearingly, he's got a sweet girl to the side of him who seems shocked by his overawed emotions.

And just as quickly, the crowd dissolves, people flee into the dance floor of Skeeter's Bar to dance and consume drink, Kyle lets himself stand idle to the lax commotion, watching Stan and Wendy's family bundle around them, all aweing at her newly fitted ring, it fills Kyle with something sentimental which he can't place, he feels Kenny's hand press onto his back and that alone makes him feel like this sole slushy feeling has a reason.

Kenny excuses himself to go outside to chain smoke with Craig, Kyle finishes surveying Wendy and Stan, who are mingling to pageant their newly dedicated rings. Kyle decides it's time to circulate the room. South Park is a spec dusted away on the top of hillsides, where weather blooms brilliantly and knowingly; it's hidden behind gravelly mountains and crumbling hillsides, where the next nearest town is almost 13 miles away. It's small popularity of 700 people lay tucked behind Colorado's natural towers. Kyle feels like he almost knows each 700 people familiarly, yet as he circulates around the room, he's at a lost for recognisable faces, he's struck with a foreign feeling of isolation. Working hard to keep Tweak Coffee's running along with his and Kenny's homes has cut him off from his old social circle. Whilst he still talks regularly with his old classmates, he can't see anyone right now that he wants to strike conversation with. He sees Nichole and Token sitting alone in the corner, they're the first married couple amongst his school friends – yet they no longer seem to hold the same fiery passion that they used to. He turns to find Cartman hovering at the buffet table; Kyle's tolerance for gay jokes and Jewish 'banter' has decreased so much as of late that he knows it would be impossible to approach.

He wanders to the jukebox, flicking through the selection with mild interest; maybe if he'd smoked he could join Kenny outside, bare the cold just long enough to kill himself slightly before joining everyone inside – his isolation teaches him that standing behind Kenny can only get him so far, he needs to be able to socialise and live without him too sometimes. He needs to be able to make more friends than just the ones Kenny provides.

He punches in whatever song he's flicked too, no one around him seems to recognise it either, and it's quickly changed to another track. He huffs, leaning against the side of the jukebox, surveying the room again. He can't help but frown, even Cartman has disappeared, he sees Bebe enter through the kitchen; she's playing Wendy's Maid of Honour. Her hair's been straightened for this event, yet it's starting to kink and defy back into its original shape, the colour has darkened a lot since her youth and now appears a mousey brown shade. She's radiant; her sequined bodycon top glistens blue and green hues off her skin, she drags Clyde behind her, who seems so deeply besotted that he doesn't notice his drink escaping down his wrist.

He sighs, peering at Sharron's infatuated face as she stares at her granddaughter to glancing towards Kevin as he parades he's newest Star Wars shirt, being careful not to let anyone near it. He wonders how much a person can change with such a tightknit community, one which seems to be thrown from one side of hell to the other without a second memory; one where celebs and their tom foolery have edged deep wounds into the history of the town all without a brief remembrance.

"Kyle!" Kip calls, he's pushing through the throng of people who have congregated on the dance floor, he's using his beer as a guide – letting it slosh out of the bottle and create a path for him to stumble through. "You seem sad-" he begins when he reaches Kyle, "You should _never_ be sad, you're too great! Too amazing!" He garbles, slurring his words with drunken enthusiasm. His smile is an unconscious strain of fixed muscles and he can't seem to stop even when he's talking.

"I'm not sad." He corrects, "I'm fine, really Kip."

"Good, you're too amazing to be sad, don't ever be sad." He repeats, stepping closer to Kyle and embracing him with one arm, residue from his beer leaks onto Kyle's shoulder and he has a rough time departing himself away from Kip's touch.

"Why?" He asks, where are Kip's words coming from? How had they become close enough for Kip to think he's too amazing to cry? It's bizarre, having someone throw themselves so willingly at you in hopes that you'll fall with them. Kip has an obvious desperation for friendship, and Kyle's semiconscious decision to part from Kenny's harem of friends embraces it.

"When my parents died, you made friends with me! You got me through it, you did some amazing things for me without realising it."

"Your parents died?"

"Hm." Kip turns, his voice stays light, but an underlying tone sweeps his voice into something more sombre, "They both killed themselves when I was a child. The police never found out why, though. I had to move to a horrible children's home, only just got rights to their old property so I could leave _that_ place."

"I'm so sorry Kip!" Kyle sympathies, he had watched Kenny struggle through the same tragedies when his family broke apart – it had been a long journey until Kenny finally began returning to the empty doll he'd left behind when Karen had died. Kyle pretends he doesn't know where Kenny's fear of blood comes from, pretends he's forgotten that he's mother too killed herself when the realisation hit that they spent all her daughter's medical money on drugs. Plays innocent to the fact that his dad rots in prison for crimes of bodily harm against a woman who looked like his dead wife. Ignores the fact that Kevin has left him for a new life in Europe.

Kyle forgets his weeping, forgets that the real reason he got his job at Tweak's Coffee Shop was to help Kenny buy his apartment, forgets that Kenny's bereavements aren't his own. He can't cry for Kip in the same way, but understands the mental toll it has; recognises that a small, alone child decaying in a tainted children's home can leading to many unseen pains; recognises that this overbearing, adolescence attitude would make sense of someone who never had a childhood to begin with. He wonders what would happen if something like that happened to Stan, or Cartman – losing his mother and then being sent away to a children's home, would he cope by becoming more deviant and deranged? Or, would the hate unravel from around his spine, travelling upward and to gush out of him like vomit?

He wonders how he himself would cope – wouldn't cope. He takes Kip's hand and smiles, "Everything's OK now, right? I mean, you still have me." It's a faded saying he used to calm Kenny down, he realises Kip's hand after a final reassuring squeeze.

"Yes," he breathes, "Everything happens for a reason."

.

Soon after Kenny's returned, Kyle makes a sudden dash for their coats, he whisks them out of Skeeter's Bar and makes Kenny run after him. It's clear by the path that they're headed towards Stark's Pond; an infamous meeting spot where the two of them began to brew feelings for each other under the thick oak trees and thin cold earth.

"Can we stop running!" Kenny whines, already slowing down to a halt, the nicotine in his throat makes him wheeze, trying to breath around the black tar contaminating his throat.

"Tonight's a full moon." Is all Kyle replies with, he's stopped running too, but his face gazes upward, looking towards the fat moon which droops from the sky like a falling star. He's been struck with the most ingenious plan, led by the moon's guidance, Kyle begins running again not waiting to see if Kenny's trailing him.

They walk halfway around the reservoir together in silence, panting candidly together until a single pane of moonlight directs them to their childhood spot. It had been a place of beginnings; confessions and secret meetings; tender kissing and closet loving was all discovered here. A place where kissing another boy was comforting and loving another boy was the only thing right, where sinning after church had never felt more like following God's word. A life of secret kisses and silent fantasies only revealed to their hypnotic stretch of midnight lagoon.

And now there's something about sitting under the deep purple sky whilst thick clumps of snow dance towards the earth, that have Kyle's insides quaking. He feels Kenny nudge against him before they slump their weight against each other, they've both pulled themselves up onto a large fallen log, one which has begun to wilt against the weather. Whether it had been knocked down due to freak weather or freakish people was still unsure, but Kenny and Kyle would always find refuge sitting here alone, peering out at Stark's pond as it reflects the night's stars and jumbles the darkness into something more intimate.

It's a fond moment before they begin to reiterate their past, where kissing at 8 had been unthought about, only a convenient way of winning at the game 'Ooky Mouth', there was something inexplicitly devilish when kissing again at 11, an almost curious addiction to it; one which had Kyle and Kenny crawling out to their hideout each weekend. Kenny wanted to practice love biting at 13, and at 14 after a lengthy discussion about puberty, both had revealed what their penises looked like, it wasn't until Kyle was nearly 15 where they gave their first hand job to each other – one which burnt and sizzled and had them stumbling towards their spot during the week too. Having sex at 16 wasn't how it was publicly portrayed, they had played _Rock, Paper, Scissors_ to find out who had the glory of going on top and after 3 infuriating rounds of losing to Kenny's _Rock_ , Kyle laid himself barren on his bed, listening to his parents shuffle out the door until the house felt just as bare. Kenny had barely lasted a minute; so fanatical about decorating Kyle's skin with marks to modest it again, that he'd worked himself up into a tight frenzy. Finally pushing himself inside only to spill right then. Although Kyle had enjoyed the feeling of Kenny's fingers inside of him whilst he was gently jacking his cock, it wasn't until he was 18 that he had his first anal orgasm, something that was ripped and pulled out of him so suddenly that he fainted; "again, again" he panted when he awoke, ignoring Kenny's tired demeanour and the fact that it had taken a prompt 30 minutes to get there the first time. The second time was a lot quicker, yet still had the same pleasurable flare that touching his front seemed to lack. Soon midnight masturbation became a regular thing, where whispering Kenny's name seemed the only thing keeping him in reality. When his brother moved away for University, Kyle was left with the tedious task of looking after the house, it had only been a few months before his 21st birthday, but it meant that he and Kenny would always have a place to stay, whether it be in Kyle's family home or Kenny's new apartment, they had been living this way ever since – and yet this seems like they'd been living like this for too long for Kyle; he decides wants a change.

"I love you." He begins, feeling his fingers trail over Kenny's downturned hand, "You utterly complete me."

"You're very sentimental today."

"I think it's the alcohol. It could also be the moon, maybe it's just you." Kyle tries to reason. "You make me feel goofy."

"You make me feel goofy too, and I love you too, very much." It's definitely Kenny's mismatched eyes that makes Kyle forget about the frozen log they're resting on, makes him forget about the party they've abandoned and his heart to heart with Kip and his upcoming birthday. It makes him forget his sense.

"Ken?"

"Hm?" Kenny pulls away from their sideward embrace and peers round to give Kyle a lax, tender kiss, it's soft and brief but it's filled with their lazy Sunday mornings together, Kyle's feet up and tucked under Kenny's thigh, both entirely engaged in a nature documentary. It's filled with their endless drives into the mountain side, where they'd sing and pull up along the side of an empty backstreet to slow dance or riot, Kenny driving and Kyle reading his latest borrow animatedly; using different voices for each character and pausing to add opinions and thoughts. When they pull apart from their kiss, they don't move away, instead reaching to gently trace the contours of each other's face with their eyes. "What is it?"

"Marry me." Kyle struggles to whisper, fixated by Kenny's eyes and the way they glitter for Kyle alone.

"I thought you said it was the last thing you wanted to do, after line dancing?"

"It was a lie, I wanted to propose."

"Do you have rings?"

"Not yet." He winces, he'd only just felt like this moment was the one. After a night watching Stan stare adoringly at his family, after watching Kip's subconscious drunken call for help, it had filled him with something so pudgy and tingly that it made his insides shiver. The feeling wrapping itself around Kyle's core, heating him up before slowly escaping from out of his fingers; he wants to scrunch them tightly together to stop the feeling from fleeing, but he thinks perhaps it'll pass through into Kenny too, so he lets their hands join and waits for Kenny's face to glisten the same way Kyle's is.

"Good! I'd found the most perfect rings, I've had them on reserve for the last 2 months!"

"You still haven't given me an answer."

"Do I need to?" Kenny says, pressing his palms onto Kyle's cheeks and smiling brilliantly up into the cosmic moonlight. "Can you feel that warmth? That is my love for you." His hands fall into his lap and his glowing faces cowers for a moment, "Sometimes I just sit and think about my Mum and Karen. I miss them both so much. It's always a sudden realisation that they're gone. I can't call them, talk to them, feel their warmth – I can't reach them, and it sucks – but I can reach you, and I want to treasure it forever. I can't let you go like I let them, I won't let you Ky – you're my everything; my constant drive, my endless happiness, you're my soul. I want to love and protect you until we're both old and safe and happy. I've wanted to marry you since the second time we kissed."

"Me too." Kyle replies with a wishing chuckle, "I couldn't think of a different life."

"I got these eyes because of you," Ken smiles, tone changing into an almost witty one, he points at his brown eye, "I went to see Damien, I told him that as long as you were living, then I didn't want to die, that I couldn't – because I needed to protect you, cherish you as you grow and develop and turn from grace to elegance. That no matter what happened, I'd be here, ready to strike and protect. Told him to trade my life for yours. That's where I got my brown eye from. When will you believe me that I wasn't born like this?"

"When Damien himself graces me with his presence to remind me that I should be falling for your lies too." Kenny huffs, and Kyle kisses him.

.

Kyle returns to the party alone, Kenny had made a mad dash into the town centre to finally purchase the rings he'd been holding. He goes straight to Stan to ask him the same questions as he'd done earlier this week, "I'm getting married, so please be my best man!" Before making his way through the jutting crowd to buy him and Kenny a celebrational bottle of champagne.

"Kyle!" He hears a voice belch over the music, thundering the room into silence. "Kyle!" People begin to push aside, creating a pathway to connect Kyle to the distressed cry. There stands Kip, hunched over similarly to the first day the met, his hands on his knees, his mouth open and slacked eyes scrunched so tightly shut that Kyle wonders if he's gonna faint. But then he's standing with his full strength again just as quickly, the adrenaline pulses past his eyes and Kyle staggers towards him, afraid and confused.

"Kyle, you have to come quickly. Kenny's been hit by a car!"


	6. Slumbering Black

Chapter 6 – Slumbering Black.

 **This chapter is yuck and was written at 2:00am so prepare for mistakes - I'll sort them out at a later date I promise. But for now, please bear with me.**

Kyle sits patiently by Kenny's side, chatting idly about recent events and daily gossip and his lonely personal life. He talks about how Tweak's Coffee Shop smells like Kenny's breath and how he can't seem to get customers' orders right anymore and that he can't seem to understand why. He watches Kenny's favourite's shows and mumbles thoughtlessly through adverts. Desperate the fill the silence with something other than his grief. Kenny lays asleep for almost a month, where he catches a mighty fever from a nurse Kyle later threatens to sue. Kenny dozes beside Kyle – who weeps, grieves and exists around him, Stan visits Kyle everyday up at half seven, where he smuggles take out from their local diner and together they meal on something bland and inexpensive – like always, he brings Kyle two cups of coffee in case Kenny wakes. Most mornings Kyle brings in his own homemade coffee; Kenny's favourite. He sets the steaming drink besides Kenny and hopes the aroma will wake him. Not that it has caused a reaction yet. Their routine continues unharmed, they sit waiting for something to happen, for Kenny to gasp out Kyle's name or whisper, "where am I?" into the white space of the hospital suite. And yet life continues on, the final mounds of snow begin to dry and soon, during the end of Kenny's slumber; it wilts into nothing.

A box of Kenny's belongings were handed to Kyle at emission; a condom; a near finished gum packet; their house keys; crumpled receipts; loose change; _their engagement rings_. Kyle had opened the box with a shaky grasp, blurrily peering down at the two Celtic rings which sit around a silk, white pillow. One ring is thinner, with swirling Celtic patterns firmed between two pillars which wrap around Kyle's finger. The other is slightly thicker, and follows a similar design to its thinner counterpart, both are made entirely of white gold, and although they're void of crystals – Kyle knows that this would've cost Kenny an arm and a leg. He spends mindless days trying on both rings, trying to figure out which one is for him; he hovers the rings above Kenny's limp black fingers, closing one eye to focus on how each ring would look in his fingers. He spends hours trying to decide which hand would Kenny prefer to wear it? His Christian left hand or his Jewish right? Where would he like Kyle to wear his? He hides them in the hospital room afterwards, not bothering to look inside again.

Long weeks of Kyle decaying by Kenny side begin, Ike spends two weeks accompanying him until his course restarts and he and Gerald fly back out to the coast to continue Ike's education. Although he still tries to call, he has very little hope of getting through. Sheila sits at home and wilts waiting for her son to return, remakes his bed each day and wonders when the next time he'll use it will be. The lunch she brings for Kyle is normally discarded, much like her support and soon she finds it hard to approach him too. Wendy had asked "What will you do if he dies?" Kyle had been nothing but rage, locking the door the next time she came to visit and hissing that she had been spreading a negativity that he didn't think Kenny would need.

No one had mention how Kyle had sprung from the room and scuttled the entire length to the jeweller's store, his heart burning and his eyesight fizzing and his head pounding over the sound of sirens; No one mentions how Kenny was lying limp over the black and white lines of the crossing, yellow tape blooming around him, along with unwelcoming reminder of flashing blue lights and wailing policemen. Kyle had stood gawking, feet betraying his movement. A man appears to make them move along, but Kyle pushes past, calling for Kenny to move, to do something. No one mentions how the police didn't recognise their engagement to be worthy enough to let Kyle get into the ambulance with him, letting him sit fidgety in Stan's car, ignoring the way Alice had wailed from the back seat.

No one mentions that Kyle wasn't allowed to see Ken until 3 days later, where he was informed that his ribs along he left side of his body had been crushed and his leg twisted and smashed – the skin from around his left arm had peeled away from where he skidded across the road. He sees Ken's unstated black fingers and bloody knuckles and Kyle can't fathom how a car which should've been driving at 30mph could've done this much damage.

Kip had been visiting him daily, ignoring Kyle's blunt behaviour and how he tries to put him off his next visit each time. He'd bring flowers and cards and many other unwanted items which don't comprehend Kyle's sorrow, patting him over his hat each time he bestows something onto Kyle. Today he brings a bag of new clothing, soap and fresh towels with their labels still attached. "At least shower; wash your hair; clean your face. Someone will be here if he wakes when you're gone." He starts when Kyle begins to refuse his new gift, clinging to Kenny's swollen palm like he has done for the past weeks.

"Yeah, I will." He returns, feeling almost hypnotised by Kip's words – he feels so filthy, so unkempt. He wouldn't want Kenny waking up and worrying over Kyle's health instead of his own. "I'll be quick, don't worry." He gives Kip the TV remote, fretting about as Kip situates himself.

It feels good to stand under the lukewarm mist of the hospital showers, he lets the water patter over his face and hair, flooding his pores and parading his skin with a fresh cleanliness which has him sighing. He's glad the hospital let him use their facilities; they're probably begun recognising that not guarding Kenny is causing Kyle more emotional toil then he'll let on. He fumbles through Kip's bag and fishes out what new clothing he has given him; a pair of grey, slim fit jogging bottoms which are loose enough to make Kyle pull the draw strings into a tight bow; he finds his top sits on the smaller side and it clings around his chest like a second layer of skin. Kyle tries to push the inside out with his hands, but the elastic pulls the top straight up against him again. Kyle doesn't try to find a second pair of underwear, opting to use his own again but a pair fling free when Kyle pulls out the new clothing. They're tight and a brilliant red colour – they seem shorter than usual so Kyle pushes them to the base of the bag and begins folding the used towel over it, trying to make it seem like they were never found at all.

A nurse stumbles past him in a mad dash as he plunders back to Kenny's suite. She doesn't turn as she apologises, instead just waves a hand above her shoulder as she turns the corridor towards Kenny's room. It's this surge that has Kyle running too, he doesn't want to pretend that it's most definitely not Kenny, wants to ensure that the nurse isn't running to the last room in a dead-end corridor.

He watches doctors pile in, hears Kip's bag drop beside him, feel the way his feet stumble to keep him standing, to keep him moving. He sees Kip appear from Kenny's room, a murky expression haunts his face, his eyebrows are knitted tightly, creating creases in his nose and forehead, his mouth quivers and a tongue extends to calm them.

"What happened?" He chokes when he finally reaches the door, finally sees Kenny through the mob of people, calling at him, counting to three, it smells like electric, smells like death.

"He- he flatlined." Kip whispers, his fingers guide him forward until they rest on Kyle's cheeks, slightly mushing his face into a worse contorted image than it already is. "Let's get out of here, you don't want to see this, do you."

"No!" He yells, a sudden flourish of strength pulses through him; it has him knocking away Kip's hands and surging into the room, pushing past awaiting nurses and idle doctors, "Save him!" he wails, lunging for Kenny's nearest hand and shaking it with vigour, "Kenny! Kenny! Don't you dare! Kenny, please!" He screams, begging Kenny's indifferent form to heave with energy.

The doctors push him aside. They shock him. They say, "Perhaps this is for the best."

Then it happens.

It happens like a unexpecting ball to the face, knocks Kyle off until his no longer staring at Kenny but at his heart monitor and how it begins to steadily thump around his dormant blood. Kyle gushes for air, gulps down a whole breath full with a thundering chest. Colour pours into Kenny's cheeks and the doctors clap reassuringly like how they we're trained, and Kyle finally lets the adrenaline bleed through his eyes.

He turns to grasp Kip in exhilaration but finds his spot vacant, he has no time to wonder when he's so relieved Kenny is still fighting and surviving, and although he doesn't wake, he just stays alive enough for Kyle to continue hoping.

Ever since, Kyle has started to watch himself turn into something he's not, something that's greedy and desperate and lamented all at once. He's been thinking about what had happened with Kip a lot lately, he wonders what he could've said differently, dreams out the what if's of not slapping Kip's hand away, of letting himself be guided away from Kenny for long enough to forget his self-loathing, wonders if Kenny would definitely be dead, or if his brief absence would still have saved him. Kyle lets his phone ring out three times before he finally answers, begrudgingly pulling the phone to his ear with hesitance. "Yes?" He says before he realises that he hasn't checked the caller ID.

"I knew you'd answer eventually." Ike replies, just as irked. "Can you stop this pathetic display already?"

"Excuse me?" Kyle jerks, pulling himself upright as his brows tightly clench together.

"When was the last time you went home? Showered properly? Ate properly? Acted like yourself?"

"I-I-"

"Ma's so worried that Dad's thinking of flying back home to help out."

"Ma seems fine when she's with me."

"Because you're pushing her away to the point she doesn't know what to do without you snapping at her completely – you've been pushing everyone away. Even me, I had to call three times before you answered."

"Do you think you could act like yourself in a moment like this?" He whispers, suddenly feeling very frail and forlorn. There's a tight dryness in his throat that constricts his voice into a stinging jumble of sounds.

"You have to try. There's no point detaching yourself from the situation, it'll only make everything worse."

"I'm afraid of what will happen when he wakes up – _if_ he wakes up."

"Have a little faith." He softens, there's no hard edges in his voice now and the distinct sadness behind it makes Kyle sob. "You know I can come back home if you need me–"

"No, no." Kyle sobers, "You need to finish your degree, Miracle Child."

"I'm not the only m _iracle_ _child_ you know, perhaps you should let things take their course and deal with it if the time comes. Kenny performs miracles daily, you should trust that he can do this too. He used to tell me he'd move mountains to make you happy. You can't move it for him, you just need to trust him that he will do it."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'll sort it out."

It was true, Kyle had somehow managed to push everyone away. Stopping his meals with Stan, making the hospital organise him an extra bed so he didn't have to go home and face his mother, candidly yelling at Kip when he suggested that he leave Kenny alone for a while a week after he'd flatlined, refusing Wendy at the hospital door the visit after she asked what he would do if Kenny died, Stan had somehow always managed to worn his way around Kyle's inapt behaviour and let the bile of his anger sit behind clench teeth.

He's not sure what he'll do, how could he let himself become someone like this? A constant anger stirs within him, yet his pride won't allow him to admit it. He'll call Wendy in the morning, apologise for cutting her out, he'll get her to pass the phone to Stan so he can get an apology too. His still unaware of where Kip lives so he'll wait until the next time he sees him, waits until fate pulls them together again so he can ask for forgiveness before finally letting go of the fears that keep Kyle walking on needles.

"Are you asleep?" he hears a voice whisper and after a second of fright Kyle's insides churn with bewilderment.

"Oh my god, Kenny?" He cries, pulsing himself into Kenny's unharmed shoulder blade, "Please tell me you're awake!" His fingers struggle to grasp onto him without harming him, he feels delusional – like he's been waiting for this moment for too long and suddenly it doesn't feel right that it should be here, happening.

"I am, I'm here." He whispers back, gently brushing his hand through Kyle's crown. "How long has it been?" His voice grumbles, sore and underworked. Kyle can't seem to attach himself to this moment yet, he sits up and peers at Kenny from the same spot he has been in all month, yet now Kenny's eyes are watching him back and his bruised black fingers reach forward to entwine their fingers.

They match whispers, "You've been asleep for a month; you flatlined once too, doctors nearly left you to die."

"It would've been fine, remember." Kenny reminds, pointing at his brown eye with his free hand. "I would just be reborn."

"This isn't the time for jokes, be serious please!"

"Fine, Fine – then, instead of dying _now_ , I'll only be dying later." And if Kyle knew what Kenny's later death would involve, he would've told the doctor's, _"Yes, this is for the best."_


	7. Purple Pills

Chapter 7 – Purple Pills.

Kenny stays in hospital for another two weeks, where staff commemorate his miraculous recovery, although he had quickly passed out after waking, and then being unable to locate the past two weeks of his conscious memory before the accident. He'd been lucky enough to miss out on being paralysed or brain damaged; his ribs were beginning to mend themselves and already Kenny was hobbling along aided by crutches and Kyle's fretting. Kenny had become a miracle within the ward, and each day Ike's words rung true.

Kyle finally faces his home, lets his mother sweep at his cheeks and peck his forehead and reunite him with her arms. The house becomes a safe zone, somewhere where he and Kenny can retire and pretend that everything is how it always was – playful boyfriends without injuries or amnesia. When the police had questioned Kenny, they'd found out nothing more than his middle name – no one hated them, they hadn't made trouble for themselves, no one needed revenge; yet the crash didn't seem accidental and even after Kenny insisted they drop it – that his gut tells him it _definitely_ was just an accident. It had Kyle scampering out after the meeting, winded and pleading not to discharge the case; that Kenny's assailant needed to be found and prosecuted. But it's not his attack and therefore not his case. Kyle watches the police turn away, wittering "Sorry, there's nothing we can do."

Instead Kenny had been discharged, and Kyle had barely teethed permission to get Kenny's pills for him. Returning home had been a town scandal; people openly gawking when the ambulance had pulled into the Broflovski's residence. Kyle had found himself for the first time resenting his work, it would never pay enough to cover Kenny's hospital bills, nor would it keep him subdue from peoples' gossip and Chinese whispers. Sheila promised to stay at home a little while longer before joining Ike and her husband back along the east; she pitters around the house muttering prays and relighting candles, she spends an entire weekend rearranging the down stairs office into a bed stay for Kenny, knowing that they'd never manage to juggle him up and down the stairs. She keeps tins of soup lined along the stove ready for use if Kenny calls her – not that he often does, he spends days sleeping away something that begins to consume him, and with no doctors or nurses around now to monitor him, Kyle watches Kenny begin to decay.

"You're a chemist?" Kyle had gapped the first time he had gone to gather Kenny's prescription drugs. Kip stood tall in front of him, decorated in a white lab coat and a netted hat which captured his curls. He had a different air about him, he looked strong and triumphant – Kyle hadn't questioned him as to why this look was so apparent but instead raised a coy eyebrow in acknowledgment.

"I've always been good with chemistry, so it only seemed fitting." He replies with a shrug, taking Kyle's green slip and raising his eyebrows at it, "I hope these aren't for you." He jokes.

"No, they're Kenny's – he, he woke up, Kip."

"He didn't!" Kip sparks in shock, jerking his body towards Kyle. His invincible attitude fizzes and Kyle sees something set ablaze within his eyes.

"He did! He had some injuries but he's healing nicely, I'm so pleased!" He sighs, mimicking Kip's happiness. "He's safe now, and I'll keep him safe!" He declares, "I will find who did it, I won't let them get away with this. Someone out there is after him, and I'll do anything to keep him protected. It's my duty."

"Oh, really? Don't do something you'll regret."

"I wouldn't hurt them, Kip!" Kyle defends, "I'd tell the police, that would be the greatest satisfaction."

"Good, violence is bad." Kip agrees with a shake of his head. "I'm glad you're against it, too." Then he's going, sauntering around the back of the chemist to spawn Kenny's medicine. Kyle sits without thought for twenties minutes, and when Kip returns with a small, white paper bag Kyle shakes his head in mindless gratitude. Kip instead of releasing his hold on the bag, leans forward and whispers. "Think of me as your accomplice – I'll always be here to help you with your investigation."

.

Kyle begins by visiting the jewellers where Kenny was hit, he asks for the man who sold Kenny the rings, requests for the receipt to them, demands to see the CCTV footage, but without a police badge to authorise his actions, he's bade to kindly remove himself from the shop. He plummets onto the ground outside, absently spinning his engagement ring around the base of his finger, his eyes flicker about and he begins to retrace Kenny's steps. He wanders until he reaches the zebra crossing and something within him drops, he sees the flashing lights highlighting the crossing and how the long stretch of road makes it easy for someone to be noticed. He tries to imagine how this could've been just an accident but when he tries to picture what happened that night; all he sees is Kenny's shattered body sprayed along the road, can only see the way his skin falls away from his arm and how his legs are hollow and his ribcage is beginning to deflate. He only sees Kenny rise and walk forward, unaware of his lethal injuries, and as Kyle retreats backwards, trying to exit himself from his illusions, Kenny's hand reaches out and presses against his cheek. Kyle can feel the cool of Kenny's engagement ring before it drops, clangs on the floor and Kenny is gone. He's floating up and up and up until the clouds consume him and when Kyle eyes fall away from Kenny's memory, he plants himself back into reality. And it has him running.

Craig refuses to abuse his power like that, he says he will file charges if he tries to convince Clyde to do the same. He tries booking several appointments with the mayor to try and convince her to let the police run the investigation again. He feels himself turn into his mother, he wants to campaign and rampage and he's not sure where this sudden feeling of anger had sprung from.

He gives in after three weeks; tired of pestering and being ignored. Instead he spends these empty moments beside Kenny, who dreams whisk Kyle away into a mindless hum. He feels himself growing numb to the perturbing sensation of him trying to return to the rogue detective persona he had created to try and enhance his thinking skills. Kip would say " _found anything yet?"_ and Kyle's stomach would churn, because how hasn't he found anything yet? Why was he stopping himself from discovering who committed a Hit-and-Run of his fiancé? Eventually the feeling fades. Kyle goes back to work, lets his mother fly back out to rejoin Ike and Gerald, Stan and Wendy announce their choice to remain in South Park but it feels like a blurry, white wash which no longer seems significant to Kyle anymore. Kenny's health doesn't pick up and Kyle struggles to reason why. Kip appears at Kyle's doorsteps more and more, checking on Kenny and staying for tea – both waiting for Kenny to retire before the Sherlock spark within Kyle is relit and they discuss possible threads. Kyle ponders making a suspect board.

.

"Ky." Kenny chokes, wheezing from his bedsit. He's surrounded by pillows and blankets and if he hadn't looked so frail and whitish, Kyle could've mistaken him for a king. Kyle had just waved goodbye to Kip after another night of drinking and planning, Kyle had suggested checking the local garages to see if anyone had come to them for a dented bonnet in the past three months. Kip suggested against it, then left.

"Yeah?" he murmurs from the doorway, his palm encasing the doorway to steady him, "I thought you were asleep, what's up?"

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"Do what?" Kyle echoes, sitting himself in the study chair and holding Kenny's ringed hand.

"The drugs – I'm not going to take them anymore."

"What?" He chokes, "Ken, they're the only thing keeping you alive!"

"I don't care!"

"You don't care if you die?"

"No, I don't! I-I just need to regenerate – these drugs won't let me."

"Regenerate? This isn't fucking Doctor Who! If you die you're never coming back!"

Kyle releases his grip and stands, ready to pace around the room, "Please hear me out!"

"No!" Kyle screams, frozen and terrified. "Where have you got this idea from? What put that into your head – I won't let you die, Kenny!"

"This isn't you call to make!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Since when?" Kenny bites back, his teeth grinding against one another, he's so frustrated with the whole situation, he's losing everything; life slips by without him knowing, falls between his fingers like silk, snagging on his ring and leaving him with nothing but snapped threads; he watches days fall suddenly into nights and hours melt away like seconds, he feels himself decay, feels himself drift in and out of nothingness.

"Since you got yourself hit by a car!"

"Got myself hit?"

"You can't wait to do anything! You're always living in the moment, even now–" Kyle feels like sobbing, "All you wanna do in this moment is die? But what about tomorrow or the day after or the day after?"

"I haven't been thinking about this for just a second."

"What about me?" He blurts. They're both crying now, the air is thick and Kyle plunders back into his seat, "L-look, I know your recovery's slow but we have to bear through it. I mean even Kip thinks you're getting better–"

"I don't care what Kip thinks!" He thunders.

"He's a chemist, Ken, he knows what he's saying."

"I don't care, I'm sick of seeing him over here – suddenly you two are best friends? I didn't think you liked him?"

"Are you jealous?" Kyle rumbles. "Is that where this nonsense has come from? Jealousy? Kip and I are just friends! He's just always there if I need him, even when you and Stan aren't. I didn't realise it affected you so much."

"It does, I don't like him, and I don't want him in our house. He gives off shaky vibes – he's trouble and I know it."

"What are you suggesting Ken?"

"You're too close, I'm your fiancé, yet you see him more than me!"

"You're resting – you're ill."

There's a soft silence before Kenny cracks, his tries to push himself forward but only manages to support himself halfway. "You're not seeing him anymore, Kyle!"

"I'll do what I like! I've been doing what I've liked for my entire life and I'm not going to start now because of you and your reckless injuries." Kyle leaves in a fury, he isn't sure if he slammed the front door close, or if it ricocheted and bounced against the doorframe instead. Yet, he doesn't want to check, instead he sullenly draws towards Skeeter's Bar, his feet slowly falling from stomps into guilty patters. Kyle had been so infuriated with Kenny's sudden proclamations that he forgot Kenny is ill and suffering and not getting any better. He half blames the alcohol for making him selfish and although he wants to pin the other half of his anger onto Kenny, he knows he can't. He's much more aggravated over his own selfish actions then Kenny's tender words. He is walking over a tightrope; waiting for Kenny to ping the string and watch Kyle plummet into a deep abyss.

Once he enters Skeeter's Bar he sits himself on the same seat he ordered his and Kenny's celebratory champagne in before weeping to himself. He orders a water and a coke and tries to sober himself up. He needs to get back to Kenny quickly, apologise and protect him like he vowed.

"Kyle?" A voice resonates behind him and Kyle slowly turns to reveal Kip standing dubiously behind him, head tilted and eyebrows scrunched together in question. "What are you doing here?"

Kyle pauses, watching Kip sit beside him and order a rum and coke. "Just needed some fresh air."

"But it's so late, I thought you'd be asleep. You're not still thinking about going to the garages around here, are you? It won't work, you know – they won't let you check things like that."

"No, no – I–" He begins before pausing. "Why are you here?"

"I came here straight after leaving yours. You seem irritated, are you sure everything's fine?"

"Kip. I think we need to drop this. We need to stop seeing each other like this, it's not right – I'm getting married and I should be focusing on that."

"What are you getting at?" Kip asks, voice lashed with hurt.

"Maybe." He whispers meekly, "Maybe we need to go back to being acquaintances."

"What sparked this thought?" Kip's eyebrows have not softened and the lines of discomfort between them begin to grow thicker and thicker.

"Kenny and I had a row – he's right and I'm doing what's best." Kyle admits.

"Can I just have tonight?" Kip tries, "Can we just have tonight?"

"I'm yours for the hour, and then promise to forget about me, OK?"

"OK."

.

He feels _drunk_ , but not in an emotional sense, just physically; his vision is vague and woolly, fish-bowling into a tunnel with blurred, teary edges. Colourful and distorted boundaries, indefinite and bleary. All he can see is Kip, airborne above him, his expression undefined and his hands quivering in a fashion that Kyle can't focus on them. He can't understand how he has gotten here, he recognises nothing.

Kyle's body rushes with a damp balminess, veneering his unguarded chest. Kip disappears from his provisional vision and with no strength to lift his neck, he curls his body to the side to try and find him again. He distinguishes his bare leg, curled over onto its side and rested in a position to stop Kyle from rolling over further. He moans at its resemblance; unknowing to why he lays nude with Kip above him, _panting._

The siege of warmth renders him incapable, he focuses on the mix hormones in his body, swirling both sickness and want. How did he get himself here? He blinks at an inexperienced notion; stinging him. He rumbles from it, a gush of warmth working its way up Kyle's bones and melting his iced muscles. Kip is inside of him: digging himself into Kyle and trying to hold out from the lust he is feeling. Kyle pants and mumbles, fidgeting against the heat and Kip – whom he feels he should escape.

White flashes before him and Kyle wonders if he is getting a migraine. Yet he doesn't feel the accompanying symptoms. He tricks himself to believing it's a hallucination from the drinking and continues to grunt and shield himself from Kip pathetically. Somewhere within him, something screams this is wrong and although he can't help it. He awaits perplex, primitively desperate to dream.

Soon, Kip heaves the duvet over them and slacks an arm over Kyle's torso. He kisses his shoulder blade and Kyle stares at the ceiling above him trying to comprehend how this all happened. What time is it? He turns his head towards the blue flash of digits; unable to read them because of Kip and he drowsiness of words that knock him into mystified spot.

" _I love you."_

Through his covert, messy, disordered mind; he wonders could he ever love Kip too. Could he ever feel for him like he does Kenny? Could he ever love and adore him so emotionally that he feels nothing but Kip? And through the rubble of his head, his stomach churns – _no._ No, he couldn't. Only maybe if Kenny was asleep forever and decaying voicelessly without Kyle. Perhaps if Kenny never existed and Kip replaced all Kyle's emotional need for Kenny with his own. He mumbles and sways desperate to reply to Kip, he has Kenny and he'll never stop loving him _._ He consciously dreams of Kenny's funeral and ponders how he would ever unravel his physical craving for him. How he would ever breathe without an insufferable yearning for him. How he could ever move on to someone as unstable and pathetic as Kip.

His voice stings, he coughs. What was he thinking about again?


	8. Goldilocks

Finally, the chapter where everything kicks off! From here on out it's a downward spiral baby!

.

Chapter 8 – Goldilocks.

Kyle is unsure of how he awoke to realise he was in a house other than his own, his fingers card through his hair with uncertainty as a thick layer of uneasiness settles within him. Yellowing walls tower over him, dwarfing him into his vulnerability and anxiety. He's wearing nothing more than a large, white button down shirt which he knows is not his own, his stomach churns and it causes him to scramble manically in search for his phone. _Where is he?_ _Where are his clothes? For Fuck Sake. Where is his phone?_

Turning on the screen reveals 15 miss calls from Stan alone, he unlocks his phone to find a total of 41 messages and he blinks away the last of the sleep glued in his eye at the content of them. Kenny had begun with paragraphs of rage, and they soon dwindled down into hurt, defeated invectives.

' _I didn't think you were the type of person, I've been wrong about a lot of things apparently.'_

' _How long?'_

' _Why bother coming back? Why don't you just die instead.'_

Kyle stares. He bores at the messages and tries to fathom if they're real, if they're legitimate. He tries to understand how they fit, how they join together and create this. He had met Kip at the bar, offered him the final hour of their friendship, ignored Kip's adamant gushes of ' _just one drink'_ and had wilfully stayed sober. Yet he remembers little more than feeling so tired and overwhelmed that his limbs gave out and Kip had to carry him. ' _We're going home, Kyle. I'm taking you home.'_

This is definitely not his home, and that's what scares him the most, Kenny's proclaimed rage could have made him do something serious, everything had begun over Kenny not wanting to take his pills, had begun with him practically admitting he'd wanted to kill himself. Kyle feels like the biggest fool to have ever plagued the Earth, why had he ever left the house? Why had he left when Kenny was desperate and unstable and lonely? Why had he let Kip sweet talk him into staying? He didn't need any persuasion before agreeing, he'd could've willingly accepted anything Kip threw at him last night, and he can't fathom as to why. He _just_ needs to get back to Kenny. Needs to check if he's stable and breathing, if he took his morning pills, if he can forgive Kyle at some point.

He's done with reading through the messages, when Kenny ignores Kyle's insistent ringing, he hurriedly calls Stan, begging that he'll be able to make his way over to Kyle's home to ensure everything's OK before Kyle's arrival.

"Stan!" He jeers when the call connects, Kyle's already on the stairs, hovering for a sign of life. "Can you go to-"

"Kyle." He interrupts, and Kyle pauses on the stairs, "You can't come home right now."

"W-why?"

"I won't let you in, you realise the severity of this? Why did you do it? To prove a point?"

"I didn't know what I was doing – it just happened, everything went on too quickly I couldn't think." He whispers, clinging to the banister with his entire strength.

"It doesn't look like you didn't know what you were doing from this side of the line. You're my best friend, please just tell me the truth."

"Stan, I am, I was drunk and Kip was at the bar and–"

"–and you thought that it be the perfect time to deliver the final blow?"

"No! He convinced me to stay, just for an hour – I don't know, I can't remember- Please, is Kenny ok?"

"I mean – he is physically, but after all that, do you think he's _ok_?"

Kyle sucks up his breath, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Did- Did he take his medicine?"

"Yes." Stan sighs, "Look – me and Ken are going to go someplace for a little while, Kenny needs to get better and I need to look after him, it'll give you both enough time to think everything through, and when we come back – We can talk then."

"Stan-" He chokes, he's crying so badly that he can't breathe.

"Good luck, Kyle." He hears an engine start up, "I'll see you soon."

"Stan, just tell him I love him!" He interjects, sobbing grossly into the speaker, a hand pressed firmly over his eyes.

"I won't lie." And the call ends and Kyle is stood hovering on the stairs brokenly, he's blank from the mind down, the hand holding his phone shakes with hurt and he finds himself dropping, curling in on himself to cry and sob and hate himself, he scratches at his forearms in a way of blaming himself. He doesn't remember talking to Kenny at all last night, when he scrolled through the messages Kyle had sent none. HE looks again, and when he scrolls high enough he realises that his messages have been deleted, that this one-sided conversation Kenny is having is not out of hysteria.

"Kyle?" Kip coos from the bottom of the stairs. It makes Kyle flinch. "Oh, Baby." He smothers as he walks up the stairs to sit next to Kyle, he sits beside him and places a hand over Kyle's knee "Everything happens for a reason, you'll find happiness soon."

"I need to call Kenny, I need to find him."

"Hm." Kip hums absently, "Maybe you shouldn't. Don't want to damage him more."

"I need to know what happened."

"It's best if you let him go."

The comment has Kyle flinching away from Kip's side, turning to him in disgust as he rears himself ready to leave the house barefoot in a long, oversized, thin shirt. "What?"

"You need time to simmer, so does he. You need to let him go so you can both sort out your anger." He stands, linking his hand around Kyle's arm, "I'll make breakfast, even Stan texted you saying not to go back home yet."

"I need to call him." Kip lets him.

.

 _Brr brr._

Kyle's breath is frozen in his throat, shallow and resting against his gag reflex. He wants to cough it free but can't work himself to disrupt the silence. He waits anxiously, his fingers tapping against his lips, in a display of apprehension and unease. He juggles the phone in his hand quickly, "Pick up, _please."_ He hums fretfully to himself.

 _Brr brr._

"Yo, it's Kenny." A voice appears and Kyle groans, displeased. He recognises this tone and line. "Sorry I can't get to the phone at the moment, drop me a line later or I'll call you back, _peace!"_ He signs off and Kyle exhales gloomily, Kenny is officially ignoring him. He could understand – the messages he'd awoken too and his prior conversation with Stan, their argument had been so dire that Kenny had lost all faith, especially after Kyle didn't come home and he got a message from an unknown number saying _'he's with me.'_ Kyle just needs to hear his voice, and not the same answer machine message over and over. He wants answers to questions he can't phrase. He wants Kenny well and walking and happy. He wants to apologise, to wrap his arms around Kenny's shoulders and whisper how things can only get better. He wants Kenny back and his, smiling giddily at his own puns and cackling at Kyle's wittiness. He wants Kenny to sing to him whilst brushing his teeth and rest his hand on Kyle's waist protectively. He needs Kenny back whether consumed by illness or not.

Kyle sighs into his phone, pressing it against his lips in a frustrated, feeble manor. His eyes flicker downwards and the back of his mouth stings, raw and dry. He wants to cry and scream at the same time, he wants to fight and break stuff and weep all at once. Kyle ponders everything, feeling misplaced and perplexed; something beyond this argument is wrong. Yet Kyle knows nothing of what _it_ could be. He feels lost and dazed – as if stranded alone with only the deep, endless, void of night to accompany him. His initial shock and anger have simmered into a sharp pain of wariness. Does Kenny not trust him? Why won't he answer?

Kyle contemplates calling again, yet something inside of him cries out against it. A part of him hasn't forgiven Kenny for his sudden and unexplained anger, yelling at Kyle for destroying their relationship and lying to him. Kyle knows he shouldn't be begging for Kenny's forgiveness for something he isn't sure about, that would be a bigger insult and more reason to justify Kenny's fury. He curses himself off and unlocks his phone, finger hovering wickedly over the call icon. He hates the emptiness he feels, and the guilt of something he doesn't know. Kenny had called Kyle a slut. His finger twitches and he opens the app, starring at his most recent call. He clicks his tongue then sighs angrily. Pressing Kenny's name to activate the call.

He presses his phone to his ear, looking up to see Kip returning from the kitchen, holding two glasses of orange juice and a sad, pitiful look. ' _Drink'_ he mouths. Kyle reaches for the glass whilst the second _brr brr_ resonates. He takes a small sip; a tangy, bitter after taste makes him slap his lips.

"Kyle." A voice starts from the phone and Kyle jolts, "Do _not_ call me." Kenny continues, fuming. His sharp, quick tone tells Kyle that he's beyond livid.

"Ken please–" He tries to start, "Where are you? Please, we need to talk about thi-"

"No."

"Ken– I love you. Please, I love you so much. Please don't do this to me." Kyle sobs, suddenly aware of Kenny's resentment and disgust. Aware that Kenny isn't just angry or jealous or maybe even both. But betrayed and humiliated.

"That's rich, Ky, especially coming from someone like you – if you think it's really about just your comments then I guess you really aren't better than scum. I guess drunk words are sober thoughts, huh Kyle. Sober thoughts are drunk actions more like." He spits "Call again and I'll block your number." As his parting words, before the line drops dead and a long beep plays to signify it. Kyle drops his hand down from his face into his lap, letting the beep play for an extended moment before turning the phone off too. His throat is arid and his head aches, a pulsing pain pounds against the front of his skull and despite its tangy aftertaste, Kyle chugs the orange juice hoping it'll sort out either of these problems. When he pulls the empty glass away from his face, he's crying and considering calling again to see if Kenny will really block him. He knows he won't try however, he doesn't want to risk it. He's got what he wanted – to hear Kenny's voice. _But,_ he thinks, _not like this,_ he doesn't want the raw, harsh tone of his voice or his succinct words. It feels surreal, like a nightmare you awake to, unable to deter if it just happened.

Beside him, Kip holds out a tissue and Kyle paws it from him with a wet, shaking hand. He presses it to his eyes, pushing harshly into the sockets to compensate for the emotional aching he feels. He does it multiple times, turning the tissue to mop up as much outflow as possible. Instead of calming down like he wants too, his body jerks and he wails louder.

"Kip, I don't understand!" He sobs, pressing the crumpled, frail tissue to his cheek. He lays curled and rigid on Kip's tough, grey sofa – an unwelcome, mysterious still-wet stain adorns the fabric and it dips profoundly in the middle. Kyle's toes curl as he cries, he's shivering and even Kip's blanket draped over his shoulders doesn't seem to warm him. "What happened last night?" He asks the brunet, looking up from his knees and peering at Kip, who sits dumbstruck before him. His mouth opens then closes again, letting out a strained noise but nothing else.

"Kip?" He questions in a quiet, broken tone. His voice tremors and his eyes gleam; fresh with tears and caution that triggers Kip's weariness. It's clear that Kip is hiding information from him, yet he's unsure as to what it could be. Kenny had briefly mentioned Kip's name in one of the many texts – ' _Stay at Kip's, don't bother showing me your face.'_

"What do you know?" He presses, firmer this time – more desperate for answers and knowledge. "What did I– we do?"

"Kyle-" He starts, reserved and foreboding. "Can I just show you something first?" he tries, prompting Kyle's emotions and rousing his ire.

"No! Can't you show me after?" He tries, not ready for anything but an explanation.

"It's just – you might not like me after…" Kip buzzes mournfully, eyes turned downwards and fingers rubbing against each other coyly in a display of timorousness.

 _I'm not liking you very much now._ Kyle drawls internally, his body trembling with rage as Kyle begins to stomach Kip's words, His emotions stir within him, conflicting and reacting with each other. He feels sick and weak – Kenny's anger, his rage. It was beginning to become comprehensible now. If Kip was willing to share what happened with them, even if it could cause a disturbance in their relationship, Kyle's willing to view whatever Kip wants to show him. Yet, only after almost 3 months of knowing Kip intimately, he cannot shake the lingering ominous and sinister atmosphere surrounding him. And now, under his current state – his senses spike and Kyle finds himself reacting to everything theatrically.

"Ok, lead the way." He sighs in agreement, standing.

Kip peaks down at his watch before responding, clicking his head upwards before meeting Kyle's eyes again. "Watch this." He demands after a moment of stillness, stalking towards the TV and bending to latch onto the red, tasselled rug that it sits on. Kyle does, clinging to the blanket round his shoulders in perplexity as Kip makes a tedious effort to yank the rug to reveal a trapdoor. Only evident due to the blatant cut in the woodwork. Kyle tippers forwards softly, cautious of the hidden doorway.

"You have a trap door?"

"Yep, hidden under the TV. You wouldn't expect that, right? The trick is to balance it more off the trapdoor than on it, it's the main reason why the TV doesn't sit in the middle of the carpet."

Kyle 'ah's in bored acknowledgment, nodding his head as he does so. All the anxieties brewing within him spike, what is Kip hiding underground? He decides he doesn't have time to care, needs to get this over with, he needs to run and Kenny, use up his last phone call and cry out an apology fitted with new information. He needs Kenny to accept him back, take him in. He needs to know what he did wrong and he needs to find out from Kip.

Kip peals back the door and stands aside for Kyle to enter, "There should be a light switch when you get to the bottom." Kip mentions as Kyle approaches the dark abyss waiting for him. On the first step in, he pauses to collect the blanket that pools behind him like a cape. His hand trails across the wall as he descends, his shadow blocking out most of his surroundings facing him. He hears Kip begin to follow him down the stairs and he's at the bottom of the staircase when the trapdoor closes and Kyle is thrown into darkness. His hands run across the walls, clipping against what feels like decaying wallpaper that curls out away from the wall. Kip's footsteps stop and Kyle realises that he has reached the bottom of the staircase too.

The lights are thrown on and Kyle hisses at the sudden flux of light, shielding his eyes as they adjust to the yellow, lambent light that hangs without a chandelier. When Kyle peers at what is covering the walls, he sees thousands of photographs, pressed firmly against all walls, overlapping and odd. He catches one that holds a group of boys, yet all but once face has been burnt out, as he edges closer he notices odd familiarities and distinguishes the photo entirely.

The surrounding photos catch him with the same unease and threat, it builds and Kyle's mouth hangs agape - terrified. He drops the blanket, fingers finding their way to run across the photographs, catching edges and burnt corners. His breathing spikes and suddenly he's not thinking of Kenny and his anger, or the coldness on his feet, or his mother's special 'Getting Better' matzah soup or Stan's birthday or Ike's graduation. But these photographs and Kip's sudden closeness.

 _They are all and only of him._

"Do you like them?" He whispers, his breath lingering against Kyle's skin. _It sickens him._ Kyle just grasps onto the beginning of words, barely able to articulate anything whilst he stares at the wall in front of him. Kip presses further, nearly resting against Kyle's back.

"This- This is-"

"-Is my love for you. Do you see it? Painted on every wall, presented in every photograph. I love you Kyle."

Kyle almost screams, he turns around in a frenzy, desperate to create space between him and Kip, desperate to escape. He can't be down here, starring at a photographic version of an oblivious Kyle. He needs to get out of here, get the Kenny- the Police. He darts around Kip, sprinting towards the door in a panicked march. His limbs quiver, body racking in alarm. He cannot pin an emotion to the horror he is feeling. His breathing strangles him and his mind empty of nothing by warnings.

Kip lunges for Kyle, knocking him over and onto the concrete flooring. His head ricochets against the floor and blistering whine enters his hearing, causing a temporarily limpness that Kip uses in his favour, effectively manoeuvring Kyle onto his back before Kyle begins to work the strength to fight back, pushing his arms against Kip's chest and punching him wherever their skin meets. He shifts his body, trying to free himself from Kip's weight.

"Get the fuck off of me, you fucking crazy piece of shit." He wheezes, his head throbbing unconditionally. The dizziness doesn't begin to fade – but heighten instead. Slowly his vision begins to tunnel before doubling and soon Kyle is unable to locate where his hands need to be to hit Kip. They swing crookedly above him, fanning any space that Kip might be in and hoping to make contact. However, soon his body begins to dawdle and his movements seem strained and meagre. In his current state, Kip easily overpowers Kyle, both Kip and his double smiling wickedly down at Kyle, groping at his wrists and holding them firm either side of Kyle's head.

Through the jumble in his mind, Kyle recognises that hitting his head should not stimulate this sort or reaction. That beyond his temporary blindness and partial loss of hearing he should not be feeling so misplaced? His mind blurs and he squirms, fidgeting his arms to try and pull them free of Kip's merciless grip. Kenny's eyes flash across his mind and Ike's trembling grip as he opens the letter to see if the university he applied for has accepted him. The memory of a faceless person hovers above him, bare shoulders and heavy chest. A slight hang in their stomach and a droop to their hair, Kyle find that when he stares and focuses, he sees this faceless person transform into Kip; hair hung in wet ringlets that tangle in front of his face and lips that are trapped between his teeth, he gnaws on it unconsciously as he wrestles against Kyle's swaying body.

"What have you done to me?" Kyle gargles, slurring incoherent words at Kip, who marvels him triumphantly. The glass of orange juice he drank blazes before him and he gasps to life, "Did you drug me?" He sharply spits, a surge of fight flourishes through his sleeping limps. He needs to fight this. He needs to get out of here.

Kip hovers coyly, smirking down at a fazed, spluttering Kyle. When Kyle finally believes he has managed to rip his arm free of Kip's confinement, Kip's smirk broadens and his hand retreats by running down his side, and Kyle barely works the power to push it away before Kip's fingers dive under and up into Kyle's rib, causing the smaller to choke and freeze, his body jerks and Kip uses this to collect Kyle's fists above him.

"I've done more than just that." He whispers, Kyle gasping and trying his hardest to stay conscious and fight, and although the panic in his head is unwavering, Kyle doubts he is moving physically. "Everything I've done. I've done because I love you."

"What did you do, Kip?" Kyle repeats in a raspy whisper, his eyes flutter open but only to close again, his body lays limp and the faintest tickle of Kip's lips touch against his cheek.

"You already know." He taunts. Kyle groans: Kip smirks. And soon, under a florescent, yellow light, Kip stands, solid and prosperous. Sharing his victory with Kyle; laying blooded, disabled and unresponsive. Kip's smiles broadens, as he bends forward to pick at Kyle's comatose form, and he knows he's on for a win.


End file.
